More Than You Know
by Anemore
Summary: Shots rang in the night. She felt a strong pair of hands pushing her out of the way and then a loud thud as he hit the ground. She fell to her knees next to him. Rating could be subject to change. CaptainSwan AU
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello,_**

**_So I already have one fic (We Are) currently in production (eh!) but since it's more canon and taking longer to develop, I just decided to have some fun with this. Don't forget to leave a review._**

**_Cheers :)_**

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_Shots rang in the night. She felt a strong pair of hands pushing her out of the way and then a loud thud as he hit the ground.__She fell to her knees next to him._

_No, no, no, she kept telling herself. This could not be happening._

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She stretched in front of the large window, her shirt riding up slightly. She pulled it down, looking out. A beautiful Spring day. The city had started buzzing. She could see people walking quickly, coffee in hand, earphones in their ears, disappearing inside the subway station or flagging down cabs.

She shuffled to the kitchen and picked up the pot of coffee pouring some in her favorite mug. She stirred the sugar in absent-mindedly before she dumped the spoon in the sink. Her night had been so shitty!

Shitty stakeout.

Shitty ride home. She wasn't even sure where all that rain had come from.

The shittiest roommate!

She glared at his closed door. Of course he would be sleeping. Jerk!

She should make noise and bang around their place to spite him, but she knew nothing short of a grenade exploding next to his bed would actually do the trick.

Instead, she sat on the carpeted floor of the living room, her back resting against the couch and opened her lap top, squinting at the grainy screen. They really needed to invest in better surveillance cameras. She scrolled through footage.

Nothing! Not yet, at least, she told herself. But there was always something. The man they were tracking was too smarmy looking and his behavior was text book. It was only a matter of time before he tripped up and fell.

She registered a noise and turned her head enough to see her roommate out of the corner of her eye. He had finally decided to get out of bed. She saw him in her peripheral vision as he grabbed his mug from the cupboard and scratched the back of his head.

Oh, the fuck! Is he humming? She wanted to smack him.

He sat on the couch and leaned closer to her, looking at the screen before dropping a light kiss on her hair as his form of greeting. "We need to invest in new equipment," he said.

"Is your bimbo gone?" she asked without any form of preamble, without looking at him.

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine," he replied. "I see you got up from the wrong side of bed."

"I couldn't sleep because of you. You know you don't have to rattle that headboard like you're a sailor on leave."

He chuckled. "I wasn't the one rattling the headboard, she was very enthusiastic."

Emma rolled her eyes at him. Just great! This conversation was just..ugh!

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Swan. I mean it does look good on you, your cheeks get all rosy and your eyes get darker," he ran a hand in her hair before dropping another kiss on her head. "She's getting dressed."

She shook her head, shoved his hand away from her. What a fucking idiot! So you're not serving her breakfast in bed then?"

He shook his head. "She wouldn't have spent the night if I hadn't fallen asleep. Exertion, you know, exhausted from you having me run around town all day, chasing some random putz."

The woman came out of the room and Emma's blood ran cold.

What the hell!

"Thank you for an amazing night, Killian," the woman spoke and Emma turned her head away. She was going to murder him. She wondered which way would be most satisfying. He was standing next to the woman, by the door. He said something and the woman giggled, hitting him on the arm playfully. The woman finally left and Emma stood, glaring at him. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and crossed her arms on her chest.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" she shouted at him.

"What the fuck is the matter with _you_?" he replied. "It's just sex, get over it!"

"She's a client. She hired us to find out if her husband is cheating on her and you sleep with her? Is the concussion you had last week worst than we thought or something?"

"Oh calm down, will you? It's just sex. No emotional messiness, no strings attached. It was fun. She's a lot of fun. Not sure why her husband would cheat on her…"

"Probably because she cheats on him too," Emma replied sardonically. She looked at him and sighed with exasperation. He wasn't even listening to her anymore. His attention was on the grainy screen. "You know, syphilis and gonorrhea are making a very strong comeback. Might want to make sure your little soldier…"

"Oh buggering fuck! You're disgusting and I always use protection! What the bloody hell is your problem this morning, Swan? Not the first time I have a woman here. Not the last time. I don't make comments about STDs when you bring around your disgusting one night stands. You know, the ones who look like they crawled out of a gutter because you clearly have a type. We've always had an arrangement you and I, so I'm not really sure what's got you all twisted up like this."

True, they did have an arrangement. "I don't care who you sleep with, moron, I just don't want you sleeping with clients, okay?"

She stood and he looked at her. She might have a point, but he knew better than to try and have a conversation with her when she was like this. It was an exercise in futility. Besides, she knew exactly what he wanted and he would not stop living his life to just make her happy. "If you gave me what I wanted," he muttered under his breath as he put his mug down on the coffee table. He picked up his bag and took the long lens camera out proceeding to take it apart and started cleaning it.

He looked at the clock.

9 A.M.

She hadn't called him an asshole yet, but there was still plenty time in the day for that to happen.

"We're meeting a new client today," she peaked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth.

"Can't make it," he replied focusing on the lens of the camera.

"And why the hell not?"

He looked up and shrugged. "I'm being summoned."

"Oh!" her face suddenly softened. "Are you okay?"

What the hell kind of question was that? He looked away from her. Of course he wasn't okay.

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**_So? Yeh or Nay?_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**First and as always, I don't own these characters. **_

_**Secondly, thank you for reviewing and following, it's always nice to find those emails in my inbox, so please don't be shy. Tell me how you feel. We'll hold hands.**_

_**We are delving into some of Killian's past in this chapter, so I hope you like.**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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He pressed the buzzer and waited outside the large brownstone. Anywhere but here, he thought to himself. _Anywhere but here._ The door opened and an older woman in a light grey maid's outfit and a white apron opened the door.

"Good morning, Darlene," he smiled at her. The hair that was once a light shade of brown was now mostly streaked with white, there were new lines around her eyes and mouth but he would always know who she was. "Are you going to let me in?" he asked her looking at her shocked face.

"Yes, Mr. Jones, I'm so sorry, where are my manners. I just didn't expect…" she moved away from the door and he stepped inside.

"Please," he kissed her on the cheek and then hugged her tightly, "I'm not sure why you are being so formal with me, you did after all bend me over your knee and spank me once upon a time," he joked before he let her go.

"Oh my sweet boy," she smacked him on the cheek lightly and chuckled, "you were being unbearable that day."

She had felt absolutely terrible for what she had done to him and had expected to be fired from her job, but he hadn't said anything to anyone. Instead, he had found her when the shock had worn off and apologized for his behavior. After that, she had gone to her home and cried. She had been in his family's service for nearly thirty-five years and had held him in her arms when he was barely two days old. She had loved him as though he had been one of her own and she ached when he had left and had chosen to not come back. To say she had been shocked to see him standing there was an understatement.

He was all grown up.

"I see nothing has changed here," he said as he took his surroundings in. He was standing in the foyer, next to the circular mahogany table, a large bouquet of white lilies mixed in with some forget-me-nots and yellow daisies sat in a vase. Those were always his mother's favorites. And they always reminded him of her. And the smell emanating from them was overwhelming and crushing all at once.

"She loved you so much, you know," Darlene said as she followed his gaze to the flowers.

_No, he thought, she didn't love me nearly enough._

"Where is he?" he asked pulling himself out of his musings.

"In his study," the older woman replied. "Killian…don't let him bully you," she whispered

"Don't worry about me," he gave her a quick kiss. "I can handle him." Taking a deep breath, he walked down the hallway and looked at the staircase remembering he had lived there once. His old bedroom was right at the top on the left. Liam's room had faced his. Liam had been ten years his senior and Killian used to sneak into his room whenever he had nightmares and sleep next to him in the large bed, hugging his bear or his blanket.

He shook his head. A walk down memory lane was the last thing he needed right this moment. He needed to keep his wits about him. But he couldn't help himself, he had been happy here once…a long time ago. He had been happy and felt loved and then everything came crashing down.

_Poor rich lad, resonated in the recesses of his mind. Poor, poor, poor rich lad who has everything his little heart desires!_

He stood in front of the door of the study and pushed it open.

"Father," he cleared his throat, "good morning." He faced the man sitting in his chair, already in his suit, his face hidden away by the business page of the newspaper.

"Take a seat," his voice came.

"If it's the same to you, I think I would much rather stand," Killian replied. "What is it that you want with me?"

The man folded his newspaper and put it down on his desk and stared at his son. "As stubborn as ever, I see."

Killian shrugged. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your summon?"

The senior Jones had aged. His hair was nearly white, but he still had presence and the booming, commanding voice that used to make Killian's blood run cold whenever he had a bad grade or pulled a stunt that had him suspended from school. He disapproved of everything his youngest son did.

This certainly took him back.

He hadn't stood in the same room as his father in nearly a decade now. Even at thirty, Killian still felt completely overwhelmed by him. His father was a successful man. He had started one of the first tech companies in the country and made billions with that before he jumped into the political arena to become a state senator.

The man opened his drawer and pulled out a stack of gossip magazines. "You're still making the headlines," his father's voice rose as he stood throwing the magazines on his desk. There must have been more than two dozens different gossip rags. "Sleeping around, getting drunk, spending the night in jail for a DUI. Should I be expecting a call from some dirt bag regarding yet another sex tape?"

He rolled his eyes at that. "I'm touched to see how much you truly care, Dad," he replied with sarcasm. "The DUI was two years ago. And I will get drunk and sleep with whomever I damn well please! I'm a fucking adult!"

"Don't curse at me you ungrateful little bastard. And since you're an adult, behave like one! You're an embarrassment to this family."

He glanced at one of the magazines. Centerfold with some socialite? What the fuck! That happened months ago and they had just made out. It was a job, nothing more. How was he to know some photographer would be taking pictures. It was a private club. His eyes travelled to the cover of In Touch, everything he was accusing him of had happened ages ago.

"And what family are you talking about exactly? This family of one you got going, hmm?" Killian threw at him. "I didn't come here to take your verbal abuse. You disowned me, so from where I'm standing, I don't owe you anything. I don't owe you a visit and I don't owe you any kind of explanation."

"The wrong son died," the man replied. "Liam had a bright future ahead of him. But you! You're nothing but a loser! I'm a self-made man and you are nothing."

"Please don't hold back! Tell me exactly how you feel. You hate me, I get it. I'll never measure up to your precious Liam whom by the way as a father, you failed. Much as you failed me and Mum. Please don't contact me again."

"I know you still live with the orphan girl, cut her loose, Killian. It's enough that you're a complete fuck up."

"Emma is not a fuck up and don't call her an orphan. And I'm not a fuck up or a loser either. I might make the society pages and the rags, but I actually do have a good life, believe it or not."

"Cut her loose!" the man repeated.

"I will _never_ cut her loose," Killian slammed his hands on his desk. "She is my family. She is all I have, she is all I need." His voice shook and he looked right back at his father. "I'm not some puppet on a string that you can manipulate however you wish, Senator."

"You are dead to me."

"I think I was dead to you the moment you realized you couldn't turn me into you."

With that, Killian turned around and left the study. His body was shaking and he wanted to throw up. He slipped his hands in his pockets deep in thought. His father had disowned him over a decade before. Why did he care what the gossip rags were saying? If he believed anything those rags said, then he probably slept with half the female population of the city.

"Prick!" he muttered under his breath.

"Killian?" Darlene's soft voice came behind him. He turned around and she held a brown bag to him. "I made these early this morning. I'm not really sure why because your father doesn't eat them. I guess I just had you on my mind. Double chocolate fudge cookies, are they still your favorites?"

"Aye, they are," he smiled at her, taking the bag from her and opening it. "They smell as amazing as ever. They're also still Emma's favorites."

"How's that sweet girl doing?" she asked him.

"She's good. She hasn't changed much, you know."

"I'm glad you found and have each other again. You two always understood one another. I can tell you love her still."

He shrugged. Maybe some things just weren't meant to be he surmised.

"Your father," she started, "don't listen to him. He doesn't mean it. You're his son and he does love you."

"It's fine Darlene. Whatever…thank you for these," he dropped a kiss on her cheek before letting himself out.

The morning had taken much out of him and he decided to head home instead of the office. He hopped on the subway and found a seat. He closed his eyes.

_"__No, he's not dead. My son did not die," his mother's voice screamed as she threw herself against her husband's chest.__Killian looked from the cops who stood in the foyer to his parents.__His father looked stoic, absorbing the shock like the man he pretended to be while his mother had crumbled to pieces._

_Liam? Dead?__What did it mean?__He knew he had never seen his grandfather after he had died.__Did it mean he would never see Liam again?_

Killian opened his eyes with a start as the subway car he was in jerked to a stop. He looked over his shoulder to see where he was and stood, waiting for the doors to open so that he could get out.

He made his way to his building and into the elevator. He squeezed his eyes shot as he could feel a nasty headache coming on. With one hand he rummaged in his pocket for the keys to the penthouse as the elevator dinged to signal he had made it to his floor.

He got to the penthouse door and with a thud rested his forehead on it. Then he saw the door knob turn and the door opened slowly.

Killian looked at Emma, her hand went around his forearm and she pulled him inside. "What are you still doing here?"

"I had David take the appointment instead. I thought you might need me after your father put you through the ringer again." Things looked like they had been that bad between them.

She had been on the receiving end of the man's anger a couple of times and it had left her extremely shaken. She never wanted to cross paths with him again.

She pulled Killian towards the couch and they both sat there. He let his head fall against the cushion and stared at the high ceiling. There was a time he did not think he could live in this penthouse. It had belonged to his mother a long time ago.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he whispered.

"It's okay," she replied. Her body was turned towards his and she put her head next to his. She looked at the bruise around his eye that was receding as well as the scratches he had sustained after his scuffle with a perp they were trying to collar the previous week. He had sustained a concussion after his head had been slammed against the brick wall behind him. He had fallen down to the ground clutching the back of his head. There was blood on his hand. She had been worried sick about him when she saw him on the verge of losing consciousness and had stayed up with him all night after they had come back from the hospital, waking him every other hour. She kissed his cheek lightly while her hand ran into his hair. He turned towards her and his eyes locked into hers.

His father was right. He was a loser. He always acted out when he was hurt. It did not speak much to his maturity level or character, but being next to her, so close to her, he really wanted to change his ways.

For her, he would stop being tabloid fodder. He could change. But he was scared he would hurt her, break her heart because he was so completely toxic.

And she didn't feel the way he felt about her. She only wanted to be friends. So what was the use?

His arm came around her waist and he pulled her into his body because he just wanted to feel her warmth against his cool skin and closed his eyes. His breathing became even and she knew he had fallen asleep. She moved away from him mindful not to wake him. She went around the couch and picked up his legs and put them on the couch and repositioned his upper body and his head carefully. She could see the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead and she grabbed a tissue and wiped them away but she knew it would be of no use. They've been here before. Not once or twice. They had been through this too many times to count.

She sat on the coffee table facing him. She took in his tormented face. Even when he slept he was never at peace. She understood all too well why he threw himself into alcohol and sex when things became too much for him.

Loss, open wounds, when the ghosts of the past came back to haunt him or her, there was never anything strong enough to numb his pain or hers.

But his father had been especially cruel to have him show today of all days. Today was twenty-four years since his brother's accidental death and twenty since his mother had killed herself with a cocktail of anti-depressants and alcohol. Emma hadn't known Liam but she knew Mrs. Jones. She was the one who brought Killian into her life so long ago.

Emma had gone into his bedroom after he left to retrieve a case file she knew he had when her eyes had fallen on the suicide note his mother had left him. He had left it on his night stand probably after looking at it before he went to see his father. The sheet was yellowed by time and the corners were bent and she saw clear stains on it…tears. She had suddenly understood the display from the previous night and why he had brought back that woman with him. He had not done that in a while. And he had never slept with a client. At least not that she knew of.

She saw his lips move, and a deep frown etched his features before she saw a tear form at the outer corner of his eye. She wiped it quickly with her finger. "Killian," she shook him before she ran her hand along his face. "Killian, wake up. You're having a nightmare." Whatever he was dreaming of, she did not want it to go too far where he would feel the need to fall at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol, drink himself into oblivion or bring some random woman back to the penthouse.

He gazed up at her. "I'm not going to ask you if you're okay because I know you're not, but what do you say we order a pizza and watch some movies? You know, the crappy kind?" He sat up and ran a hand in his disheveled hair.

"What about work?" he asked her.

"Well David is covering at the office. Ruby is going undercover tonight at the strip club."

Killian smirked. "Her favorite kind of undercover work!"

He was back to his annoying self it seemed. She smacked him hard on the arm. "Don't let her hear you say that. Besides, she's taking over for me."

"Don't let me stop you from putting on a corset, an ass skirt and a garter belt. Not to mention those ankle breaking heels. I do find you extremely fetching dressed that way."

"You're such a dick!" she smiled at him.

"We can go into the office," he said.

"I think you need a break," she replied.

"I'm not going to shatter, Emma."

She put her hands on either sides of his face forcing him to look into her eyes. "I know. But just the same, let me take care of you today, okay? You always take care of me."

Her jaw was set and he knew she wouldn't have it any other way. He knew he would rather be here with her than stuck with his own thoughts.

"All right. I'll get changed into something more comfortable. We have dessert by the way," he pointed at the brown bag on the table.

"What is it?"

"Darlene made our favorite," he replied.

She squealed with delight and he gave her a surprised look. "What?" she asked as she peaked inside the bag. "I haven't had these in years!"

"Swan, nothing gross on the pizza, please," he warned her.

"I'll make sure it's anchovies all around!"

He looked at her over his shoulder. She was playing with a strand of hair as she dialed the pizza place. There was the ghost of a smile on her lips. She wore his very old pair of sweat pants. They were slung low on her waist because they were far too big for her.

She looked perfect.

Emma Swan, the only person he would ever need or want in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you all for the review and follows.**_

_**Not tons of dialogue in this one, but backstories are important too! I had like three false starts with this part before I could get something semi-decent out. Looking forward to Sunday!**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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When Killian opened his eyes and he looked towards the window, it was still pitch black out. His arms were around the middle of her back and he pulled her closer to him as she moved against his body. She was warm, soft, comfortable and familiar.

The television was still on and he reached for the remote to shut it off. His barefoot inadvertently hit the work files they had been looking at before they had decided to stop and relax with a movie. They had been lying down on her bed and likely ended up falling asleep. It was something that happened often. If she fell asleep in his bed before he did, he usually carried her to hers and tucked her in but he usually fell asleep before she did, so this was nothing unusual for them.

He looked at the clock on the other side of the bed and groaned. Four in the morning? He was wide awake and could not possibly go back to sleep now. He was too aware she was there with her head resting against him and his hand sitting on his hip. Had he been in his bedroom and alone, he would have taken his laptop to the living room and look over some of the work he and the others were doing as they always uploaded their files to the mainframe at the office in order to be able to access anything they needed from anywhere.

But she looked too comfortable to risk waking her. She always looked peaceful and worry-free when she was asleep and he hated to take that away from her. He pushed a strand of hair away, tucking it behind her ear before running his thumb on her arm as he looked out of the window, at the skyline, his mind drifting.

It was odd the things he remembered.

_"__How do you feel about having a little sister?" his mother had asked him in the car where he sat across from her. He shrugged at that.__He thought he was supposed to have a little sister sometime ago but wasn't sure what had happened.__All he knew was that the room where she was supposed to be, right next to his was vacant.__The decorator had stopped coming around and the furniture stayed in the boxes and the door had been locked.__At the age of five, there were a lot of things he did not really understand.__He had clutched his little ship tighter in his hand and looked at his mother.__She had given him one of those wide, brilliant smiles only she had the secret to.__Those smiles were always comforting and soothing._

_"__We're here," her tone had been happy, he thought. Happier than it had been in a while.__They both stepped out of the car and she had taken his hand in hers.__ "__There she is," she had said with excitement, "my blonde little angel."_

_She had walked up to a little girl who was sitting on the stoop in front of a home that had looked a bit rundown. Her hair was gathered in pigtails and she was holding a rag doll tightly against her chest.__ "__Killian, this is Emma, she's four," she smiled down at him.__ "__Emma, sweetheart, this is my son, Killian.__Remember, I told you about him?" she looked at the girl who nodded at her before turning her attention to him.__ "__He's almost six.__Why don't you kids go to the swings over there while I go inside and help out for a bit.__Play nice, Killian," she had dropped a kiss on his head and sent both kids on their way where one of the volunteers was standing._

She had brought him with her every time she went back to that house after that though his father disapproved. It hadn't taken him long to take a liking to Emma. He had even helped pick out her birthday gift. More and more, he looked forward to seeing her. They were close to the same age, they liked the same things and his mother promised him Emma would come live with them as soon as his father changed his mind. He was excited about that. He would have a companion, he and Emma were friends. They would get to go to the same school and hang out all the time. Killian had felt alone in that big house, surrounded by adults who were too busy. Liam was home only on the weekends, so he hardly saw him anymore.

His mother had re-opened the room next to his and the decorator had come back. She had settled on a soft yellow for the color of the walls, just like the sun, she had said.

And then, everything had fallen apart. Cops had rung their doorbell on a cold winter night with news that his parents needed to go down to the hospital morgue to identify Liam's body after a car accident. He had been spending the night at a friend who had just received his driver's license and they had gone out. His brother who had been so responsible and reliable, everything Killian was not, had not worn his seatbelt.

To this day, Killian still thought it was a stupid way to die. And he could vouch for what stupid was because he had done some of the most idiotic things in his life, like driving while he was drunk or jumping off a small bridge on a bet. So self-destructive and completely oblivious.

He pulled the covers over Emma when he felt her shiver and looked down at her face to make sure she was still asleep.

Whatever his mother had in the works regarding Emma and her care was derailed with Liam's death. His mother had stopped going to the home altogether but he had kept on because he had grown attached. Darlene started taking him there every chance they got. His mother had taken to her bed and barely came out of her room anymore. He would go in and sit with her, talk to her about school and his day, about Emma and the things they did together, how he really liked her. His mother used to smile and nod, hug him, tell him he was a good boy, profess her love for him and then she would close her eyes, seemingly exhausted by the efforts she was making. His father was locked into his study or away on business. Emma had helped him escape a situation he had not really grasped. She had been his savior. He had brought her over with him a few times much to his father's anger, something he still did not understand to this day. If it was about pedigree, then his father was the biggest hypocrite alive, he thought.

But even then, when he compared their situations, he knew she had had it so much worst than he had. She had been taken into various homes before she was eventually returned where she had started and she had taken to running away. She never stayed in the same school, never had enough time to make friends. Everyone she cared about left her.

Including him.

He had left her too. Something he'll regret for the rest of his life. He had not fought hard enough.

She moved in his arms and he softened his grip on her. He remembered the day his father had yelled at him about hanging out with the orphan girl too much. He hated him for labeling her as such, like being an orphan was the worst thing in the world and the only thing she was, the only thing that defined her in his eyes. She was sweet, funny, talented and absolutely brilliant. Killian had replied hotly that he loved her and would marry her some day. He smiled when he recalled his father's face turning red with anger. Killian was convinced the man was going to throw something at his head. But then there were consequences for being hot tempered as he would learn. His things had been packed and he was shipped off to boarding school all the way in London, back where his mother had come from with a one way ticket. He had spent two years there, graduating secondary school before being able to go back to New York. He had been isolated from everything and everyone he knew.

Emma had cried when he had told her he was leaving. They had been the better part of each others' lives for a decade and separation was as difficult to him as it seemed to be to her. He had been overcome with sadness and had kissed her and she let him. In that moment, he had thought of running away with her, but he was convinced his father would find him and drag him back. And who knew what he would do to Emma. So, he had promised to write her every day and he had been true to his word, but his letters had been returned to him undelivered and he had stopped.

He had agonized over that for a long time. He had thought of her every day he was gone until he had seen her again. He was just hoping she was fine. He imagined she had likely run away again. She had more balls than he did at times.

He shifted to his side and Emma moved with him burying her face in his chest. He hated doing this to her, but it was eight and she was meeting Mary Margaret in a little more than an hour. And between the shower, the blow dry, 45 minutes were easily gone.

He couldn't believe he had already been up for the last four hours. He hated not being able to sleep in during the weekend. It was a sacrilege.

"Emma," he ran a finger along her bare side, "wake up."

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Mary Margaret sat in the Emerald Isle Bakery when her phone vibrated. She looked at the text message and rolled her eyes.

_On the way._

She sighed. She and Emma had been friends for some eight years. They worked together, hung out. They were family, the five of them together. Fate must have brought them all together.

Mary Margaret had come from an affluent family. She was raised like a princess, in a big home, with people waiting on her hand and foot. She had been spoiled. She wanted to be like her mother, someone who oversaw several charities, helping those who were less fortunate. As a child she had looked forward to cotillion, her debutante ball. She had known Killian in passing. They had attended the same private schools, their parents ran in the same circles. Brooding, sulking Killian, who seemed to just hate everything about his life and everyone around him.

She understood him better after her own mother had suddenly passed. That loss had a crippling effect on her. None of the things she had looked forward to mattered anymore. Everything had become superficial. She had retrieved into herself, she missed her mother, but her father was as loving and as doting as ever. But he had remarried too soon. She had cared enough about her step mother, but the gloves were off when Mary Margaret's father had died of a massive heart attack. That had been a blow to her life. She was twenty and she found herself embroiled in a war with her step mother over Blanchard Industries. Her father had left his only child the kingdom and the keys to the kingdom, and his wife was having none of it. Rather than destroy the legacy he had left behind, Mary Margaret had decided to forfeit the companies in order to preserve everything her family had worked so hard for. It had been heart breaking to part with something that had been started by her family generations ago.

She had met Emma in Arizona and they had gone back to New York together.

Speaking of the devil… "Hey, I'm so sorry!" Emma rushed and plopped on the chair across from her. "Had a bit of a late night."

"Oh," Mary Margaret replied. "How's that?"

"We were looking at that case file, the embezzler we have yet to catch. Then we decided to watch a movie and fell asleep."

Mary Margaret nodded her head as she sipped on her coffee while Emma placed her order. "Where is Killian this morning?"

"Cemetery," Emma replied. "He waited to go so he wouldn't run into his asshole father." They had left the penthouse together and had gone to the florist around the corner where Emma had helped him pick up some lilies. She had purchased daisies and handed them to him. "These are from me," she had simply said. She had watched him get into the cab before she walked the distance to the bakery. She would have gone with him, but this was something he needed to do on his own.

"How is he?"

"Better than he was two days ago. His father is…I don't even think there are words to describe that man."

Mary Margaret looked at Emma. "Are you scared?"

"Honestly, yes, he scares me. I'm scared of him. I don't understand why he's contacting him now. He threw him out. He disowned him, told his only living son and relative that he was dead to him. I don't understand."

"Maybe he's trying to reconnect with his son somehow?"

Emma shook her head. Killian had told her everything that had transpired and how he had been ordered to cut her loose. "What if Killian finds out? What if his father tells him? Killian will never forgive me," her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "He'll use the things I haven't told Killian and break his heart. Then he'll leave."

"Why do you automatically jump to the worst case scenario? He won't just walk out on you, it's not his style. He's more the fight for the one you love type of guy. Wouldn't it better for him to find out about everything from you rather than to wait for his father to drop this bomb on him? If he is as awful as you say he is, then you know he will not hesitate to hurt him."

Frankly, much as she tried to remember the man, Mary Margaret couldn't. She looked at Emma. She had been privy to her friend's deepest secrets, including the ones she thought she could not share with Killian because it was too late for that.

"He loves you, Emma. You're the only person in this world he'll forgive anything."

"Not this," she replied. "Not this. I'm so ashamed of myself. And we fell asleep in my bedroom and I think I slept in arms most of the night and I just can't keep doing this. I love him too much."

She felt sadness, pity for the woman. Emma had been young, scared and a little misguided with some of the choices she had made in her life. "Secrets have a way of coming back at you."

"I know," Emma sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you for the reviews and the following.**_

_**The characters don't belong to me and so on and so forth. For the whole naval academy and active duty, just go with it ;)**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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"What the hell? Who peed in your cereal?" she asked him as they stood on the roof of a building with their surveillance equipment.

_Milah._

"This is yours," he put her coffee between her hands paying no mind to her sarcastic question.

"Starbucks? You walked two blocks for Starbucks knowing how much I hate their coffee, but there's a Coffee Bean right there," she pointed across the street. "See? What kind of private investigator are you? You're terrible at it!" she joked. "No wonder we couldn't find this guy."

No smile was forthcoming, his jaw was set and she could see him flexing it. "Well, love, I deal with tech. At least there's one thing dear old dad was good for. What's your excuse, Swan? You studied criminology and you're a reputable bails bond woman."

She shrugged. "Some things take time. By the way, that bimbo client you slept with, Mrs. Chambers?" She waited for his reaction, but his eyes were trained on the twentieth floor window. "Let's just say her husband was more interested in David than he was interested in Ruby and we both know men never turn Ruby down."

"I turned her down," Killian replied. "Doesn't mean I'm gay, I'm just not interested."

"Okay, seriously, what is it with you?"

"Nothing," he whispered.

_He had come back from London the previous night and stood at the kitchen counter staring at his bowl of cereal. Darlene had been there to greet him and hug him, telling him how much she had missed him.__Gregory, the driver had been all smiles, happy to see him back as well.__His father?__He didn't know where he was, not that he was eager to see him.__He knew how things would go or rather not go.__His father would look at him, find something to disapprove of before locking himself away in his study.__When he looked around him, Killian wasn't even sure why he was back here._

_He had finally graduated secondary school and was getting ready to go to the naval academy thanks to letters of recommendations he had received from people he did not even know, did not care to know._

_Such was the life of Richard Jones' son. He didn't have to lift a finger to do anything and he hated his father for this and he just hated his life.__He had one year of naval academy before he was to be deployed into active duty for two years.__He would be spending that time on an aircraft carrier somewhere at sea, far away from here._

_That was the bargain. He just wanted to be out from under his father's thumb._

_He would be twenty-one by the time he came back from being deployed. He would have access to the inheritance his mother had left him upon her death.__The very large penthouse that belonged to her in midtown would be his.__He had not set foot there since Liam's death.__They used to go there whenever his father was out of town.__He would also have access to the sizable trust fund she had set up for him as well as investments, bonds and other._

_He hadn't decided what to do with his life yet. He considered university.__His grades went from passable, which usually meant he barely tried to great, which meant he barely tried and was just really good at it depending on the subject._

_He hadn't been in New York for the past two years. Being back especially in this home after having lived in a dorm felt incredibly weird._

_Weirder was not having Emma around. He had no idea where she was or if she was even still alive.__He shook his head to chase away the terrible thoughts that were clouding his mind._

_"__Hello," a woman's voice he did not recognize came behind him and he turned around to look. Long dark hair, light grey eyes, somewhat tall, she must have been in her mid to late thirties, good looking.__He shrugged and turned back to his bowl of cereal.__The Lucky Charms were drowning and the dye had turned the milk into an unappetizing mess._

_"__You must be Killian," she spoke again. This time he registered her British accent.__His father definitely had a type, he surmised.__He picked up his bowl and dumped the contents in the garbage disposal and turned it on for a few seconds before turning it off.__He then proceeded to rinse the bowl and put it in the dish washer._

_"__I'm Milah," she said unfazed by his behavior._

_"__I'm not interested," he replied before heading out of the kitchen. Eight weeks of having to put up with this and then he'll be going again._

_He had gone out and taken the subway to the home Emma used to live. It was more rundown than he had remembered and empty.__There was no one and it did not look like anyone had lived there in a while.__He jumped on the subway again and went to an internet café to look up where the social services office was.__It was a long shot, but he had to try.__He was missing her terribly and he could not bear not knowing what had happened to her.__She was fifteen and very likely still in the system.__He knew teenagers had a harder time getting permanent homes.__But then again, she had never had a permanent home or stability even when she was a small child_

_He had thrown his mother's name around when he had arrived at social services and was thankful that someone recognized the it. He had been invited into a cluttered office and the woman who sat across from him had gone on and on about how she knew his mother, how she had been a kind soul and was so very sorry when she found out she had died.__He had nodded at everything she had said to him and then told her he was looking for Emma Swan._

_"__She has been moved out of state," the woman said after looking at her computer. __"__This is as much as I can tell you.__The files are confidential and I've already said too much."_

_"__Is she far from here?"_

_"__Far enough. Another big city," the woman looked at him kindly.__ "__I really can't say anymore."_

_"__I have to find her," his voice was desperate. __"__She and I have known each other for so long and I've been gone and I have to see her."_

_The woman shook her head. __"__Someone asked for her to be transferred."_

_"__Who?"_

_The woman shook her head and pursed her lips. __"__I really want to help you.__I can see how much you care for her and there aren't nearly enough people who care for those children.__But this is my job and I can lose it for disclosing any type of information."_

_He stood. __"__Thanks for your help anyway."_

_He had left completely disheartened. All he knew was that she had been moved out of state, somewhere she did not know, surrounded with people she did not know and someone had requested that she be sent away.__If he didn't know any better, he would be accusing his father for this, but again, that sounded exactly like something he would do.__He hadn't wanted his mother to foster her and adopt her.__He hadn't wanted Killian to hang out with her._

_He didn't have enough money to hire a private investigator. If he asked for money, he would have to justify it.__He thought of stealing his father's credit card for a hot second but he knew he would be caught almost instantly._

_When he arrived home, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and ran into Milah. This will do, he thought.__A means to an end.__She must have a credit card he could steal from her.__ "__I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior," he told her with a smile.__ "__I wasn't expecting to find a woman in this house.__My father never brought anyone here since my mother passed, so it was a bit of a shock."_

_She had smiled at him indulgently, told him it was okay and she understood. _

_He had been nice to her, laughed at her jokes, kept her company, ran errands with her. He was always good at buttering people up. And then things had gotten out of control.__He knew he had a pretty face that could buy him anything with the girls.__He had seen how they reacted to him when he was in boarding school, had dated here and there or as much as a teenager dates, had lost his virginity to one of them.__At nearly 18, a woman more than twice his age had shown interest in him and things had happened.__What was supposed to be about him stealing a credit card had turned into a full blown affair._

_He had been overwhelmed and frightened at times but he was doing it so that he could find Emma. That justified everything for him. He had stolen the credit card, hired an online P.I and waited for results while carrying on his sordid affair.__He liked Milah enough and he was getting one over his father which was all good in his book. He was killing several birds with one stone._

_Things had happened quickly after that. He found out Emma was in Boston.__He had an address and was all set to take a bus there when his father found out about the affair.__It was as though a bomb had gone off in the middle of the house and furious could not even begin to describe his father's reaction.__He had kicked Milah out and Killian was sent down to the naval academy much earlier, his hopes to go to Boston were dashed.__He was a prisoner in the school and he hated it._

_Then his father had visited, sitting him down in front of the television and showing him the sex tape his son was the star of. It was the first time he had felt ashamed of his affair.__He hadn't felt so brash or arrogant anymore.__The tape had been bought at a big price._

_His father told him in not so many words that he was on his own. If he were smart enough, he would finish his year at the academy and do his duty as he was supposed to once he was on active duty.__He didn't care what happened to him afterwards._

_He had apologized for what he had done and then seen red when his father had furiously told him that he was the one who requested that Emma be sent out of state because it was a mistake for his son to be friends with her. She would never bring anything good in his life as he put it._

_Killian hadn't regretted what he had done as much after that admission. Being disowned wasn't the worst thing in the world._

_He had written Emma, but he was sure she had never received his correspondence since he handed his letters to a ranking officer. He couldn't go to Boston because he needed authorization to leave which he did not have._

Bumping into Milah when he went to pick up the coffees was weird. She had spoken to him as though nothing had ever happened between them. He thought she had a lot of nerve to just stand there and chat as though they were some old friends. She told him he had grown into his looks and he just looked at her and hated her for the tape, the blackmail, making him lose his opportunity to go to Boston. The two million his father had fronted to her to go away more than made up for the four hundred dollars he had charged to her credit card when he hired that P.I.

She was a means to an end and he was a means to her end and that's where things ended. The fact that she wanted to make small talk with him was irritating. He had looked at her stunned for a minute before walking away from her.

Emma knew none of that. He did not think she would have a good reaction to his behavior. It happened so long ago.

He glanced over at her. She was on her knees, her elbows resting on the ledge, clicking away with the long lens camera. "God, that man is gross," she mumbled. "How's the feed on your laptop?" she asked.

"Very disturbing and extremely traumatizing," Killian replied. "I'm all for threesomes, but this is just…I'm sure Mrs. Hastings will love finding out what her weirdo husband has been up to." The man was spread eagle against on the bed, naked, his hands tied above his head. "This is one time, I wish the blinds were closed and we had no set up inside his apartment." Seriously, that just looked painful.

"What are the odds of that? Our cheater and my embezzler bail jumper are one and the same. You know she did it on purpose, right? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." He had gone through a lot of trouble, disguise, fake mustache, hat…

She heard Killian suck on his breath. "Should we not be calling the cops? One of the pros just used a taser on his…hmm…balls." That had to hurt very badly judging by the man's face.

"They're not prostitutes, Killian, they're dominatrix. I would think the leather, the whip and the gag ball would be a dead giveaway. You should know about all of this," she winked at him.

He rolled his eyes at her. "No, I really don't know about any of this and I really don't want to find out. I think we have enough here," he closed the lid of his laptop. I'll stay up here, you go downstairs with the equipment. I'll let you know when he's on the move, then I'll come and assist you," he continued, "but after what those two inside have been putting this bloke through, I'm sure catching him will be a walk in the park."

She nodded with a smile putting her camera away in the bag and taking his laptop from him, standing close to him. "Don't forget these," he took his hand in hers and put the handcuffs in it before closing her fingers over them.

"I'll see you downstairs?"

"Yes, you will," she started walking away. "Swan?"

She turned around and looked at him. "Stay safe."

"I am _always_ safe," she smiled at him before leaving the roof of the building.

He picked up the binoculars and kept watch. He saw the two women get dressed and leave. The target sat on the couch and pulled his clothes on slowly before exiting the apartment. Killian threw the binoculars in his bag and took his phone out. "He's on the move, Swan."

He raced down the stairs and saw Emma giving chase. She was a blonde blur. It didn't take her long before she tackled her target to the ground and cuffed him. She walked him back to the car and pushed the man in the backseat. "Well done," Killian congratulated her.

"Let's go collect our reward," she said getting in the passenger seat.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thanks a whole bunch for the review and follows. This is the last part I'll be posting for a week so I hope it meets expectations.**_

_**As always, I own nothing.**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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She sat on her small bed, in the room she shared with five other girls and pulled an old cigar box from under her mattress. She opened the lid slowly and stared reverently at the things inside, things that made her feel she mattered to someone.

And she mattered to him. He had promised he would write her every day and if there was anything Emma Swan knew about Killian Jones it was that he always kept his promises to her. But while she was convinced he wrote to her, she knew she would never receive his letters as she was no longer in New York. She was now in Boston, back where she had originally come from. The only reason she had ended up in New York in the first place was because the family she had been in for a year had moved to that city.

At thirteen, she was somewhere she did not know and certainly did not remember. She felt alone and miserable. And she missed him and missed him even more when she went through her box. There were pictures of them, some taken by Darlene and Gregory, one taken at a photo booth. There was one of them together in his home during a sleep over they had had when his father had been away. That was after Killian's mother, Katelyn Jones had died.

Emma had cried when she found out about that. Killian's mother had hugged her, always genuinely happy when she saw her. She kissed her cheeks and wiped her tears when she scraped her knee. She had brushed her hair without pulling on it and never yelled at her. And she had brought Killian in her life. She had been worried she would never see him again after his mother had died. She knew it was selfish to think like that but she could not help it. He was her best friend and the only person in the world who always cared for her, about her.

But he had come back. The first time she saw him after his mother's death, he had sat next to her on the stoop of the home she lived in. She always sat there. It was her spot. From there, she used to look at the people walking by. Mothers holding their daughters' hand tightly, fathers carrying their sons on their shoulders and she imagined what it would be like to be that girl with the mom and dad, the family she yearned for so much.

Killian had sat next to her and said nothing, so she hadn't said anything but she could hear him sniffling. His shoulders were slumped, his hands clasped together, he looked like he was far away. There were no tears in his eyes though his lip quivered every now and then.

Then he spoke. "My mom didn't love me," he had whispered under his breath. "She killed herself because she missed Liam too much."

"Of course she loved you," Emma had protested.

"Then she didn't love me enough," he looked at her. "She didn't love me enough to stay with me."

She had slipped her hand between his clasped ones and gazed at him. "Well, I love you," she told him sincerely, with all the innocence of a seven year old. They weren't meant to be just be words of comfort, the words were true. His lips had tugged in half a smile. She had leant her head against his arm and he had squeezed her hand between his.

He came to see her almost every day after school, though he wasn't exactly welcome at the home anymore. But he was stubborn and kept coming. They used to sit on the swings, their backs against the chain, facing each other and talk about what they learned in school or played. Sometimes, they even did their homework together.

She picked up the small ship from the box and held it in the palm of her hand. He had given it to her. It had been his favorite toy, but he had relinquished it to her because she liked it as much as he did. She told him it would be their ship instead.

They had met in the park where they had taken to meeting since they were now allowed more freedom due to their respective ages. He had told her he was leaving for London. He would be going to school there now and they would not be able to see each other for a while. She promised herself she would not cry, but her resolve had shattered. She had crumbled and he had held her in his arms. He had never done that before. They played rough with each other. They shoved and pushed each other. They laughed together, they argued, even fought every now and then. They had held hands as a gesture of comfort, or once or twice for no particular reason as they walked together. That had seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

He had never taken her in his arms though there were times she wished he would. But she was sobbing and he had just pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her, his cheek resting on top of her head, apologizing over and over, explaining how he was being forced into this and he would rather stay here with her.

Her friend, her only friend, her best friend, her love, the only person in the world who mattered to her. Her everything. She would be all alone and lost without him. How was she supposed to go from seeing him three, four, even five times a week to not seeing him at all anymore?

She had often wondered what her life would have been like if he had not been in it. Now as her shoulders shook from her sobs, she wished she had not wondered at all. She was about to find out and she just didn't want to.

He had cupped her face between his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs and she just couldn't look at him because it hurt too much. So he had lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, telling her how he never thought he would be the one to make her cry. He had brought his mouth down to hers and brushed his lips against her own. She had let him kiss her because she had wanted him to. It was a wet and awkward at first. She had no idea what she was doing, so she just relinquished control over to him.

And what did it matter if he did kiss her? It would be a long time before she saw him again. Two years sounded like a whole lifetime when you were a teenager filled with angst. She would have the feeling of his arms around her waist and the touch of his lips to hold on to and his letters to keep her apprised of what he was doing and how his life was while she waited for him to come back.

They had sat on the swings as they always did and talked. She told him she would write to him once she got his first letter as the return address would be on it.

They had parted ways and he had popped back in her life suddenly, unexpectedly four years later, she had just turned seventeen, she was done with the system, foster homes, people who made money on her back. She had left, lived in shelters and on the streets. She boarded a bus and went back to New York. She hung out around the park they used to go to together, sat on the swing, looked at mothers and fathers bringing their children to play. She hoped against all hope as she sat sideways on the swing she used to sit in, her back against the thick chain, one foot planted in the sand, the swing rocking slowly beneath her.

She heard her name. It was a whisper, something from long ago. That had happened before, her imagination getting the best of her, conjuring up sounds, voices and images, taunting her. Then she heard it again. "Emma?" It was a little louder this time. She looked over her shoulder. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, his eyes wide with shock. She turned around, both her feet were now planted on the sand firmly. Her eyes locked with his and held there. Her lower lip trembled. He was rooted in his spot. He was much taller, his shoulders were broader. His hair was shorter, he sported a scruff. His eyes were as blue as ever. She stood, smoothed the front of her plaid shirt and tugged the back of her jacket down.

"You're a very difficult person to find," he smiled tentatively at her. "I went looking for you in Boston."

"I left Boston over a month ago," she shrugged still looking at him. "Your British accent is thicker than it was before you left."

He took a couple of steps towards her. "I missed you." His voice was filled with emotion and he seemed to be done with small talk. He looked at her face, her hair was gathered back in a pony tail and she wore glasses. "You're angry with me," he stated, hurt registered on his features.

She had shaken her head. "Why would I be angry with you?" she asked him surprised that he had come to that conclusion over her hesitation. "I don't know what I should do. Part of me wants to throw myself in your arms and part of me is scared this is a dream and you're going to vanish into thin air."

He took the two steps separating them and had taken her in his arms, hugging close to him. "I'm real and I would have found you much sooner if I could."

They sat on the swings. He had told her about London and the naval academy. He was due back for active duty in two weeks and would be gone for another two years. He had thought about dropping the whole thing but the consequences were that he would become a deserter, court-martialed and sent to jail to likely never see the light of day again.

She had told him she had suffered some abuse at the hand of her last foster father. He had been quick to whip out his belt because he believed the devil lived in some of the children he fostered. She would never understand how someone like that would be allowed to have children under his roof, but he did. She had left, run away and did not look back. She would rather live on the streets and steal her food than take more of the same from these people, verbal and physical abuse. Besides, she was nearly aged out of the system anyway, so what did it matter whether she stayed or went. It wasn't as though anyone cared about her one way or another. She was invisible.

But the way Killian was looking at her, she knew she wasn't invisible to him. He saw her, not just the scarred parts of her, but everything that she was. With him, she was just Emma. She felt like those people she envied. She was just a normal girl, not so lost, not so sad.

She had glanced at him and marveled at how easily they had slipped back into their relationship as though time and distance had not factored in, as though they had never been apart. "I missed you too," she finally told him. She had laced her fingers to his and he had brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He had taken a room at the Y in midtown and invited her to stay with him. He had some money set aside since he had worked during the school year and would be paid during deployment as well. She had agreed. She had nowhere to go but the shelter or the streets and those were far from safe.

She would have him all to herself for two glorious weeks before he was gone again. She did not really want to think about that.

This time however, being with him had been different. She was fully aware that they were no longer children. Innocent things they used to do like lie down on the grass and stare at the clouds, their heads next to each other no longer felt that way. She had seen him bare-chested at the pool years ago, but catching a glimpse of that now had left her flustered. His body was toned, muscular. She was seventeen, she noticed these things now. If he had noticed anything about her, he hadn't said anything. He kept to his side of the bed, slept on top of the covers with his own set of blankets. He had been the perfect gentleman.

Two weeks of looking at him, remembering him kissing her before he left for London. The night before he was set to leave again, she had sat cross-legged on the bed in front of him and looked at him as he flipped through a magazine in an effort to distract himself. "I want you," she blurted out. "I understand if you don't want me back, but I thought you should know. I want to be with you."

He had looked at her surprised. "Bloody hell! How could you think I don't want you?" he had looked at her incredulously. "Spending two weeks in the same room as you, sleeping in the same bed as you nearly drove me mad," he replied. She had practically thrown herself on him, kissing him sloppily and hungrily. It was as it should be. Her friend, her best friend, her first kiss, her first love, probably the only one she would ever love like this, with everything she had, the first one to ever have her.

It had been bloody, painful, it stretched, it burned, it hurt, her emotions threatened to overtake her. Then everything subsided and when he moved inside of her and she didn't want it to end.

He had left her his debit card to use as she saw fit. She told him she might leave for Portland and come back to New York when he came back. He wanted her to get a cell phone so that he may be able to call her, check up on her. She hadn't cried when saying her goodbyes though her resolve nearly faltered. Two years would pass quickly enough. She would go to Portland, find a small job, try and finish high school or get her GED, further her education so that she could support herself.

But life happens when you're busy making plans.

And it would five years before she saw him again.

Emma pulled in front of a park in the Queens neighborhood. "Thanks for doing this with me," she looked at Mary Margaret as they got out of the car and walked towards the jungle gym. She had been looking and searching for a little over a year now. She had nearly chickened out but Mary Margaret had offered to accompany her and she was grateful for that. She did not think she could do this on her own.

She looked at the kids, taking their faces in one by one. "Which one?"

Emma looked at the picture in the file she was holding in her shaking hand and scanned the playground again. She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. "The one on the swings," she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

He was still angry with her and by the looks of it so was she. Four coffees instead of five, she could be so passive-aggressive and he could just throttle her right now. He rolled his eyes.

It was nine in the morning, he had barely slept the last two days worried that he was, then there was work. Following perverts, thieves and drug dealers wasn't the easiest of tasks. Sometimes, he felt they were in way over their heads. But this was his business and he was bankrolling the whole operation. He could not drop out and did not want to drop out. That would only give his father more ammunition against him if they ever crossed paths again.

He looked over at David who was sitting next to Mary Margaret. Could those two be more obvious about their feelings, he wondered.

Killian and David had met a few years ago when Killian had been in Europe. David was from upstate New York, had grown up on a farm with a single mother who was now deceased. His father had died when he was but a small lad. He had always stayed close to home because of his mother and then one day decided that he wanted to see some of the world. Killian and David had very little in common, but they had somehow bonded and had become fast friends. Maybe it was because David felt homesick at times. He missed his mother and the farm though he loved the experience of being abroad.

Ruby resumed her place next to Mary Margaret. Those two had also been friends for a long time. Ruby's dreams were to become a model, an actress, have fame and fortune but she had given up on that after her parents had died in a tragic car accident when she was sixteen. She had moved in with her grandmother and had been living with the older woman ever since. Ruby and Mary Margaret could not be more different as individuals. Ruby was extroverted and generally a happy go lucky person while Mary Margaret was introverted, prim and proper. Born into wealth just like him, but that's where the similarities between them ended.

When he looked around the table, Killian wondered how all of them had gotten together. Maybe it was their shared experiences. They were orphans or unwanted, in some cases, they were both. They had certainly bonded over loss.

His eyes darted to Emma. She always sat next to him, but he knew she would be standing during this meeting.

Yeah…passive-aggressive through and through.

The worst was he felt he had done nothing wrong to incur her anger. She clearly didn't see it the way he did.

"Want to get started, Ruby?" he asked her.

"Fucker didn't show up," she replied with a heavy sigh. "On the plus side, I made nearly $250 in tips."

"What did you have to do for that?" Killian asked her with a smirk.

"Ha, ha!" she laughed sarcastically. "Anyway," she glared at him, "there's a backroom there. The manager went there several times and I tried getting in, but the door is locked. It's the only place that had no surveillance camera. There used to be one, but it has been removed."

"So if there's a drug operation…"

Ruby nodded. "Pretty much. I snuck into the office and found these." She showed them photographs of floor plans. "The outside door leads directly to the alley in the back and then the pier. I'm thinking…"

"You were alone, Ruby," Emma chastised her. "You can't go sneaking into offices. You were just supposed to scout the place."

Ruby shrugged. "Getting into the office is part of scouting the place," she narrowed her eyes. "Besides, Killian was keeping an eye on me," she winked at him.

"And was Killian inside or outside?" she asked.

"He was in his car," Ruby replied. "We were in communication the whole time," she raised her eye brows at her. "He got this really cool gizmo from his contact in Chinatown. It's a contact lens with something like a retina scanner that transmits directly to his lap top, so he got to see whatever I saw."

"I see," Emma muttered under her breath. Those two had looked thick as thieves lately, especially the past week. She knew Ruby was very attracted to Killian and just thinking about them together threatened to send her over the edge. Ruby was supposed to do this on her own, why did he decide to tag along?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Killian interjected.

Her temper flared. "It means whatever the hell you want it to mean."

_He had not heard from her or seen her in a little more than two days.__He had called her personal and work cell phones several times and she had not picked up.__He had left her several messages to call him back, the last one stated that he was worried and just wanted to make sure everything was okay, that she was fine.__He knew her and knew if it came down to it, she could take care of herself, but he also knew she was not on a case.__When he looked up her location, he found her phone GPS had been disabled which meant she likely did not want to be found.__He wondered what was going on with her._

_She was tense around him since the previous week.__She avoided him.__He tried speaking to her several times but was met with nothing but silence.__He did not really understand and he was not sure whether he had done something wrong.__But then, if he had done something wrong, he knew she would have just yelled at him, pointed out how much of an idiot and an asshole he was and moved on from that._

_He felt uneasy around her.__He could not for the life of him remember a time when he had felt this much tension between them.__And she refused to speak to him about what was nagging her._

_He had spoken to Mary Margaret and asked her what was going on.__If she knew something, she wasn't volunteering any kind of information.__Lying down on the couch for two nights in a row, he had waited for her to come home.__He heard the keys rustle and he sat up.__He heard the key turn and he stood.__The door opened and she stumbled in, followed by a man who was trying to hold her up._

_He had seen red.__Red hot anger had washed over him._

_She had clearly hit the bottle hard and this man was grabbing her and kissing her and groping her._

_"__You're up?" she finally realized he was there.__ "__Did we wake you?"_

_He had eyed her warily.__ "__You've been gone for two days," he stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.__ "__You took none of my calls.__Where the fuck have you been?"_

_She looked at him surprised while the man standing next to her chuckled.__ "__So this is your roommate, then?__Does he always speak to you like he's your mother?"_

_"__She's drunk, mate, what are you doing trying to score with someone who can barely stand?" he advanced on the man.__ "__Makes you feel like a big man, does it?"_

_Words were exchanged and he had lost his temper, physically removing the man from the penthouse.__There was no way this man was spending the night in Emma's bedroom, under his roof._

_She had been angry with him.__Pissed off.__She told him she never stopped him from banging the bimbos he brought over.__She had told him to butt out of her life, that she hated him and everything about him.__He had called her an unreasonable pig head and replied that he hated her as much as she hated him._

_"__Fuck off, Emma," he said as he picked up his pillow from the couch._

_"__No, you fuck off," she countered collapsing on the couch.__ "__I'm sorry that I can't live up to your standards, even though the ones you have set for yourself are extremely low.__Your perfect little standards of perfection," she slurred her words._

_He had stopped and looked at her unsure what to say to her.__If anyone knew him, it was her and her words had cut him for some reason._

_"__You're the one who has kept me at arm's length for years," he threw at her.__She may not have been perfect though she was perfect for him, but he wouldn't have her behave the way she did tonight and if it made him a raging hypocrite then so be it._

_She was drunk and about to have sex with some random guy she picked up God knew where which meant something must have set her off.__She behaved that way when she was hurting.__They were very much alike in that regard._

"It means whatever I want it to mean?" he stood abruptly from his chair and looked at her. "Why don't you keep your thoughts to yourself? It's a novel idea, you should try it sometime."

He looked at Ruby. "From what we gather…"

"Fuck you, Killian!"

He shook his head at her. "What's your problem?"

"You both have a problem," Ruby shouted on top of them. "You both have a fucking problem. Whatever you think happened last night, Emma, it was just work. No, I did not fuck him in the backseat of his car, whatever even gave you that idea?"

"Ruby…"

"No, just no. The two of you are idiots and assholes. Just fuck already and put each other out of your miserable misery. It's not like you've never done it before. You have seen her naked and she has seen you naked," her voice was shrill. "So what the fuck is your problem other than making the rest of us completely uncomfortable with your behavior? You live together, you work together, you pretend to be the best of friends which by the way, you are not because you behave like a fucking married couple. He looks at you like he's completely in love with you and you pretend you don't see it and the second he has his back turned, you give him these lingering looks because you feel the same way he does. Just get together, fuck each others' brains out so that we can all move on with our fucking dysfunctional lives, okay?"

"I'm not listening to this, I'm leaving," Killian picked up his lap top.

"No, you stay, I'll go," Emma countered.

"No, why don't you both stay and we'll go," Ruby picked up her coffee and stood followed by Mary Margaret and David who looked like they wanted to be anywhere but the office. "The table is empty, fuck or whatever, then buy a new table because I will not be eating on this surface ever again. Let's go guys!"

The door was slammed behind them, leaving both Emma and Killian stunned.

"I really don't want to talk to you," he said.

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she replied.

"At least we agree on that. By the way, not because you asked but the reason I've been spending so much time with Ruby is because Victor, my doctor friend is interested in her, not that you asked or anything like that because you like jumping to conclusions. You need to stop doing that because you're usually wrong. And it's not like you wanted me around."

Well she felt like an ass now. She remembered Victor from their last visit to the hospital. Ruby had dropped by with coffee while Killian was getting his scans and stitches. "So you're playing match maker. Forgive me if I have a difficult time thinking of you as a regular cupid."

He sighed. "Well it's the truth. I'm not sure when you stopped trusting me because clearly there is something going on with you and since I'm not a mind reader and you won't tell me, then I don't know how to help you or be there for you. And even if Ruby and I were carrying on, it's not like I'm being unfaithful to you because you've made it very clear you did not want anything with me that goes beyond friendship. You even called the one night we spent together a mistake, years after it happened. So whatever…just have it your way."

If he only knew, she thought. If you only knew, she wanted to tell him.

"You can fuck whomever you want," she said crudely.

The only reason he had not been in a committed relationship was because he hoped she would come around eventually. But looking at her, he wasn't certain she ever would. "Good to know," he replied sarcastically. "You can do the same. If you want to have your _drunken_ one night stands, go for it! Just don't bring anyone back to the penthouse like you did last night especially after you've gone missing for days because I will not have it," he warned her. If she was going to be stubborn about this, then he did not want to hear anything coming out of her room because he didn't think he could be responsible for his actions.

"Like you've never had drunken sex," she spat. "Who do you think you are? Sir fucking Galahad?"

"I've had drunken sex plenty of times, but I never took advantage of a woman who was drunk which is more than I can say about your gentleman caller. He was as sober as a priest and you could barely stand. What if you had changed your mind and wanted him to leave? What it he wasn't someone who took no for an answer? What then, Swan?"

"I can protect myself."

"Fine words, milady," he retorted. "You know what? I'm not going to argue with you over this, so whatever helps you sleep at night, love. If that's the story you want to keep telling yourself then who am I to tell you otherwise?" he looked at her one last time before he walked out of the office leaving her alone.

What was she supposed to tell him? Yes, you are right, there's something nagging at me, eating at me. I went to jail and had a child there whom I gave up for adoption and now I found him and I don't know what to do because he is happy and loved.

"Fuck my life. Seriously, fuck my life!" she picked up her things. Some days were made to hide under your bed covers. And she just wanted to hide from the world and shut it out.


	7. Chapter 7

**As always, thank you for the reviews, the follows and the favorites.**

**And as always I don't own anything. **

**Cheers :)**

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Killian swirled the amber liquid around his glass and re-adjusted himself on his stool. He looked at the television. God, he hated baseball.

"You're brooding," he heard the voice come next to him as David sat down and ordered himself a beer. "Yankees are looking good," he commented.

"I could give a fuck about the Yankees or the Mets, or the Red Socks or…who cares about baseball," he replied. "It's all about football…err, soccer," he corrected himself.

"Right," David looked at him. "What's going on with you?"

"Have you ever been in love? I mean so in love you would just do anything for that person, sacrifice anything for them?"

David contemplated that question for a moment. "I think I'm getting there," he said thinking of Mary Margaret. "Is this about Emma?"

"Who else would it be about?" Killian chuckled sarcastically.

David sighed. The earlier display in the office had been extremely uncomfortable. He had wanted to run out of the conference room or hide under the table. He wanted to be elsewhere very badly. He had been around arguments between Emma and Killian plenty of times, but they were always work related. They were about taking unnecessary risks, about how a case should be handled, about who should do what, when and how. But that had been very personal and everything that Ruby had yelled at them so crudely, he agreed with. Thank God for her, he surmised. She expressed everyone's opinion then marched them all out of the meeting much to his relief.

"I want simple things in my life," Killian started. "I want to get married, have a family and I always thought it would be with Emma. I wanted to give her my name, the life she deserves to have. I wanted to give her the home she never had. I wanted to give her forever."

"And now?" David looked at his friend puzzled. This didn't sound like the Killian he knew. He sounded like he had given up.

"I don't know. I always pegged myself as the long-term relationship type and I have never had one of those because I always felt I belonged somewhere else. Thirty years old and my longest relationship lasted a month."

"Hence all the conquests?"

"Hence all the conquests," Killian repeated as he took the last gulp of his rum and signaled the bartender for another round. "I think I've been in love with Emma since I was fourteen. I think that might have been the first time I saw her as something more than my childhood friend."

He scratched the back of his ear and looked at the score of the game. "Did I ever tell you how my mother died?" he asked and David shook his head. "She killed herself with her anti-depressants and lots and lots of vodka. That might be the reason why I have never been able to go anywhere near vodka. Darlene found her in her bed in the morning. It wasn't my father because he was on a business trip," he air quoted, "off banging his mistress somewhere. At least he had the decency not to flaunt that in her face, though I'm sure she knew. If I smelled the perfume on him at times, I'm sure my mother did too, no matter how far gone she was. My mother killed herself because she had a miscarriage when she was seven months pregnant, my father was cheating on her, he wouldn't let her bring another child in our home and then my brother died."

"She could have left," David replied. "From what you told me, she came from a family that had means. She had the penthouse, she could have gone back to England, she could have divorced your father, sued him for custody, gotten child support and she would have lived her life not wanting for anything. She was a lawyer, she could have gone back to practicing. Nothing was stopping her," he finished. Killian had told him enough about the late Mrs. Jones, he hadn't known about the suicide or the affairs his father was having. She could have left, she chose not to.

"I don't know why she didn't leave him. I don't know if it's because she loved him. I don't know if it's because she thought he would change. I know my father loved one person in our family and that was Liam. He would have done anything for Liam."

"And you?"

"No," he chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. "He yelled at me frequently because I was in his way or something and I barely saw him after my mother died. He was always gone either on business or to DC. Darlene and Gregory raised me. I'm sure he would have sent me sooner to Europe if my grandparents had been alive."

David looked at his friend. Twenty-two years was a long time to drag all this baggage around.

"In her suicide note, my mother wrote something that I know by heart," he whispered.

"And what's that?"

"She said that love is dangerous. It can pick you up and whip you around like a rag doll and you have no idea where you will land. But if it's real then you always know that somebody is going to catch you."

"How do you feel about that?"

Killian sighed. "That's probably the reason she stayed with my father for so long. He probably loved her a long time ago and he was there to catch and she always thought he would, but then he wasn't," he shrugged. "I know I'll always be there to catch Emma. I don't know that she'll be there to catch me. I guess I just don't want to be my mother," he rummaged in her wallet for bills. "I met this girl a few weeks ago. Her name is Morgan. She's beautiful and smart and I bumped into her again yesterday and I think I might give it a chance. I want a chance at having something that means more than sex and if I get hurt, so be it."

"What about Emma?"

"Much as it pains me to say, maybe it's time for me to stop thinking of her as someone I can't live my life without and just take what we have together at face value. She wants friendship, then that's what she shall have."

"So you're giving up? You're giving up just like that?" David asked him surprised.

"It's not because I want to, it's because I have to. For my own sanity, I have to. It's been six years since we have been back in each others' lives. I can't take what she won't give me. I can't keep pining away for her, imagining what our lives would be like if we were a couple, I can't keep thinking of what our children would look like." He imagined a girl who looked just like Emma and a boy who might look like him. "I always thought I'd be a much better father than the one I had. I always figured I would be able to do right by them, love them more than they ever would need to be loved. It's painfully clear those children will not exist, not with Emma at least."

Admitting this was painful. He had felt desperate when he hadn't found her in Boston. And then he had seen her in the park and his whole universe had tilted on it axis. At nineteen, he had firmly believed they belonged together and the second he had looked at her, everything had been re-affirmed. "The second I looked at her, everything changed. My whole universe was thrown upside down."

"Are we talking about Morgan or Emma?"

Killian shook his head. He removed the thumb ring he wore and twirled it on the bar. Emma had given him that a long time ago for his birthday. It was the only thing she could afford. It had been way too big for his fourteen year old fingers, but he was able to wear it after a few years on his thumb. "It's like we're married," she had joked. Twelve years old and it was as though she had made him this promise that someday it would come to pass.

God, they were so naïve and innocent and both so full of what now seem to be impossible dreams.

"You should take your time, Killian. This woman, she might end up being very hurt if you're not careful." David finally said after a reply wasn't forthcoming.

"I'm meeting her at the office in a half an hour."

"The office?"

"I have to look at a couple of things and it will be empty."

He slipped his ring back on his thumb and put the bills down on the counter before he hopped off the stool he had been perched on. "Can I give you a piece of advice?" he asked David.

David rolled his eyes. "Your life is a train wreck pal, you can give me advice, but I don't believe I have to take it."

"Have it your way. If you care that much about Mary Margaret and I think she cares that much about you as well, maybe you should give it a go and see where it goes."

"We'll see," David smiled.

"Have a nice evening, mate," Killian clapped him on the shoulder and left.

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Emma and Mary Margaret had decided to stay in the office later than usual. They were busy scanning and archiving everything so that they can close their cases.

"Have you and Killian spoken since this morning?" Mary Margaret asked. "I know Ruby was a bit harsh…"

"No, she wasn't," Emma said looking up from the file she was working on. "She went undercover last night in a very dangerous place and all I felt was jealousy that he went with her for some reason. The worst part is I would never have gotten over it if something had happened to her and she had been there alone with no one watching her back."

"Why would you be jealous?"

"I don't know! It's Killian!" His one night stands never bothered her because they were just that. He could give his body to anyone he chose, but she knew that she was the one he always loved. She felt selfish. She was selfish.

"Why don't you just tell him everything, Emma?"

"I can't. I just can't."

"The past can hurt, Emma, but the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it. Aren't you tired of running?"

"Old habits die hard, Mary Margaret."

The door swung open and a woman walked in. Emma and her Mary Margaret stared at her. She had long chestnut hair and her eyes were green, almost translucent the color was so pale. She had fair skin and high cheek bones. She was tall, wore a crisp white shirt and trousers. She smiled at both women. She looked like she had fallen out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue or commercial and right into the middle of their office.

"I am looking for Killian Jones," the woman spoke with her British accent.

Emma repressed an eye roll. "He's not here. I doubt he'll be coming back."

"I'm supposed to meet him here. I'm Morgan by the way," she moved and presented her hand to both Mary Margaret and Emma to shake. "Would it be alright with you if I waited for him here?"

"Sure, please have a seat," Mary Margaret gestured towards the leather couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," the woman replied.

"Do you have an appointment scheduled with Killian? Emma, maybe you should call him since he seems to be running late."

"It's not business," Morgan replied. "And I'm the one who is ahead of schedule. I left the office late, did not have time to go home and get changed before coming back here."

"What is it that you do?" Mary Margaret asked her pleasantly.

"I'm a pediatrician," the woman smiled broadly.

Great, Emma thought. Just great! Beautiful and a doctor, certainly not the dreck Killian was used to picking up. Just then the door flew open and Killian rushed in. "What are you still doing here?" his eyes flew directly to Emma.

"Working," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Mary Margaret and I are closing the completed cases in the system."

Morgan stood and he turned around and smiled at her. Emma felt her stomach churn. His smile was genuine and the woman was smiling back at him brightly and it was all too much. He looked like he might actually like this one. What happened to no emotional involvement? "I'll be in my office for a few minutes. I need to check on a couple of things before we head out."

Morgan nodded at him and sat back down. "Take your time."

Killian went towards his private office which was located in the back and after a beat Emma followed him with some papers. She entered without preamble and found him getting changed.

"Sorry!" she blushed, unsure where that had come from.

"No worries, it's nothing you haven't seen before," he pulled a pair of grey slacks over his boxers and threw on a dress shirt which was a darker shade than the pants. "Is there anything you need?" he asked her.

"A couple of signatures for expenses," she replied looking at him. He was really going all out for this date. He slipped a tie around his neck before he put on the vest. A three piece suit? Really?

"You never needed my signature for expenses," he looked at her. "What's going on, Swan?" he sat on the chair and pulled his shoes on.

She went to him when he stood and fixed his tie for him. "You look good, Killian. Very handsome."

She felt a lump form in her throat. It came out of nowhere and she suddenly felt like she could weep. "Thank you," he smiled tightly at her.

"She's beautiful and she seems really sweet."

"She is," he said.

"She must love children if she's a pediatrician."

"I guess," he slipped his wallet inside the pocket of his suit jacket before picking up his cell phone. "You won't be able to call this one a bimbo."

She ignored his remark. "Where are you taking her?"

She saw annoyance flicker in his eyes. "Ostria."

"It's hard to get a reservation there."

"I threw my name around."

"I see," she replied.

He sighed loudly. "If you have something to say, just say it!" he voice rose a little. "So, I'll ask again, what is it? You don't want me to go out on a date with a nice girl? Is that it?"

Her eyes refused to meet his. He brought his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "You had me. You had all of me, my heart, my soul, everything I could give you, you had it and you threw it back in my face. So what do you want me to do? Wait around until you finally change your mind? Wait for you to finally admit what we both know to be true? Wait for you to decide you want me back all the while my life passes me by? I want more than this for myself, Emma. I want a woman who loves me back as much as I love her. I want a woman who wants the same things I want and you know _exactly_ what I want and you can still have everything I want to give you, my heart, my soul, my life, they are all yours. So unless you have something to say to me right now," he let go of her and took a step back, "I'll be going on my date with Morgan."

He looked at her and waited. "Right," he looked at her sadly. "I didn't think so. Enjoy your evening."

He left his office and slammed the door behind him, probably harder than he had wanted to and the windows rattled. It wasn't five minutes later that Mary Margaret came in and sat next to her on the ground. "He looked angry," she said.

"He was angry," Emma replied. "Angry with me. Sometimes, I think he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. It's just hard for him to slam into a wall every time he pours his heart out to you. You always held his heart in the palm of your hand and he was content letting you hold it like that, but there's so much rejection he can take."

Emma stared at the wall across from her where he had a board hanging. She stood and went up to it, looking at it. There were four pictures of the two of them together as children, teenagers, young adults and a more recent one taken the previous Christmas in the penthouse. She thought it summarized them and what they were.

"You're his family, Emma."

"And he's mine," she replied. "His mom took this picture," she pointed to the first picture at the top. "He gave me his toy ship that day. He said I needed it more than he did." She looked at the other one. "This one was taken by Darlene." It was in the summer and she had taken us to Coney Island. They were both wearing their bathing suits and it was her first experience at the beach.

Mary Margaret pointed at the third picture. "What about this one? You look happy."

"No, I was really upset and it took everything for me to keep it together. It was the day he was leaving for Maryland for his deployment. The day after we slept together."

Now that Mary Margaret looked closer, she could see something in both their eyes, sadness. "What about this one? Isn't the David the one who took it?" she asked.

"I think so," Emma replied. The penthouse had been decorated. They usually bought something slightly more elegant than a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. They called it the runt of the litter, the tree no one wanted and put up the small decorations together. But they had decided to get something bigger last year since David, Mary Margaret and Ruby were coming over. The apartment had been decorated, all five of them cooked together and it had been as close as having a Christmas with family as she and Killian would ever get, her in her whole life and he since his mother died. Mary Margaret had put up mistletoe unbeknown to the two of them, and they had kissed. It was tradition after all.

What was supposed to be a kiss between friends had turned into something more urgent. It was filled with emotions and feelings she had tried to push down so hard. Everything had been brought back to the surface, the way she felt about him, the way he made her feel. Her heart was racing and so was his because she could feel it beating against her chest. She had pulled away from him reluctantly and her forehead had rested on his while his hand rested on her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip. That's the picture David had snapped, she and Killian looking like a couple that was completely in love.

"It's a beautiful picture," Mary Margaret whispered. "You can still have this. Morgan is a really nice girl, but she's not you."

"I think I'm going to head home," Emma said putting the picture back where she had taken it. She needed to be alone.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Happy Sunday! No show tonight, so boooooo booooo! Can we get that heart back please? Thanks! God, who cares about award shows (I hate award shows so much!)**_

_**I wanted to thank everyone who is following and also say it's okay to leave a review, I really, really don't mind! I also wanted to say thank you to those who are taking the time to review. It's always nice to see those pop up in my inbox (along with new follows and the last chapter opened a bit of a floodgate).**_

_**As always, I don't own these characters.**_

_**Here's the next part. I hope you enjoy.**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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She had gone all the way to Harlem to pick up her ultimate comfort food, Sylvia's Mac and Cheese and key lime pie. She walked into an empty and quiet penthouse and turned the light on. She kicked off her boots and dropped dinner on the coffee table before heading into her bedroom and getting changed. She wondered resentfully how Killian was doing on his date with that woman.

She went into her nightstand bottom drawer where she kept all her tampons pads, panty liners and other supplies and rummaged under them. She pulled a file from underneath everything. That was the one drawer she knew Killian did not go into. Their things inevitably ended up in each others' drawers. Usually her things more often than his.

She opened the folder and stared at the picture inside of it.

Her son.

The reason her relationship with Killian had become so strained. Since she had laid her eyes on her son, she could no longer look at Killian without feeling a sense of loss and a lot of remorse. The dread that filled her felt overwhelming at times.

While she knew everything about Killian, he did not know everything about her. There were things she had not told him because she had been scared of the way he would look at her. She was scared of the way losing him for good would feel.

He was gone from her life several times. He was gone when his father had sent him away. He was gone when he had left for the Naval Academy. He was gone when he left on active duty and it took him nearly six years to come back to her.

But he had found her. He always found her.

_She remembered him walking into the office where she worked and made straight for her desk.__She was starting her bails bond woman career and buried in case files, the fax machine buzzing and screeching near her head, but she no longer heard it.__It was part of the background noise that she had now gotten used to._

_"__Swan?"_

_The voice, a blast from the past had jolted her out of her concentrated state._

_"__Killian?"__His shoulders were broader, his scruff thicker.__He had put his hands on her desk and leaned over.__His eyes had sparkled as he gave her a lopsided grin. She had started looking for him upon getting her job, but it was more difficult than she had anticipated.__She was resigned that he might have decided to go abroad and not come back to the United States.__Her heart had shattered and crumbled at the thought.__He had promised and he always kept his promises to her.__She knew on her end that she had moved too frequently for him to be able to pin down her exact location._

_But there he was, standing in front of her, wearing a leather jacket, a pair of jeans that were torn at the knee, a plaid shirt…her eyes darted quickly over him.__She saw he wore the ring she had given him around his right had thumb.__She could not believe he had kept it all those years.__She had a fleeting smile at the memory of him slipping it on his wedding finger a long time ago and telling her he'd wearing it as soon as his fingers were big enough for it.__She had joked saying it was as though they were married. _

_The ring finally fit somewhere!_

_Seconds seemed to stretch into hours.__ "__Did you miss me?" he asked and she could hear the smile in his voice and her heart had shuddered before it started jumping and slamming violently against her ribcage, threatening to break it.__She had jumped out of her chair sending it crashing against the wall behind her and reached over her desk for him.__Just when she thought she might never see him again, he had found her._

_"__I missed you so much," she repeated over and over and over and over with her arms around his neck.__She had pulled herself up to her knees on her desk and his arms had wrapped around her waist, his head buried under her chin, her hand cradling the back of his it while he held her tightly against his body.__The people around her were looking at them curiously.__They were pointing and whispering, no doubt assuming the weirdest things as those who did not know always did but she did not care either way.__This was a moment she had waited for, longed for, lived for.__She waited for it while she was in Portland, Phoenix, Tallahassee.__She waited during the cold nights in Boston, then in New York when her body shuddered and all she had were old pictures, his toy ship, the black scarf he had purchased for five dollars from one of the street vendors of Manhattan on a cold morning because he had forgotten his at home, the circle of life necklace he had given her for her birthday, also purchased from a street vendor.__He was always fond of those street vendors when they were growing up._

_She hung on to the small things and the memories as though they were her life line to him._

_Because they had been._

This time however, she thought as she put the file back where she took it, he would be gone and he would not come back. She had betrayed him. She had betrayed his trust, his love and everything they ever had been to each other. She sighed heavily, but the tight squeeze around her heart remained.

She had not spared her son a moment's thought. Not because she did not love him, but because it was easier to pretend none of it had happened to her. She did not think of him on his birthday, she did not think of him on Thanksgiving and she did not think of him during Christmas. Perhaps it made her a coward to play pretend. Maybe it was easier at times to pretend she was someone she was not, pretend she had not been a thief, pretend she had not been to jail, pretend she was not pregnant, alone, scared half to death. Maybe it was just easier to pretend…Maybe her parents did the same as she did when they left her on the side of the road when she was nothing but a few hours old. Maybe they pretended she did not exist. Left alone on the side of the road on a cold October morning, maybe they thought her chances of survival would be so slim that once she died, she really would not have existed to them.

Emma had not been so cruel to her own child especially after having read his file and seen him at the park. With all his smiles and laughs, he had seemed to be a happy ten year-old, a normal ten year old.

Then they had a case last year. A woman who had given up her child for adoption had come to them desperate. She was nineteen, had give up her child the year before and with all her meager resources decided that she wanted her baby back no matter what. Killian had decided they would help her and not take her money. The woman said she would make it work because even though she had given the child up, she loved her with all her heart and just wanted to be reunited with her.

That's when Emma's decent into madness as she called it had begun and her life had started to unravel slowly. Looking at that woman and her determination, Emma had felt ashamed of herself and this pretend life she had built on the ashes of everything she was. Perhaps she would have her own child with her if she had been brave enough to take that leap. The doubts that filled her mind had been unbearable this past year.

She put the Mac and Cheese in the microwave and popped a DVD Mary Margaret had landed her. She had insisted. Knowing Mary Margaret who was a sucker for romance, this one would probably be along the lines of Love Story or something like that.

She grabbed her plate and trekked to the couch and made herself comfortable.

_"__You gave me a forever within a number of days."_

"I fucking knew it!" she felt her throat tighten. "I am so done with this," she stopped the DVD and got up to put the leftovers in the fridge. She knew Killian would probably have whatever was left whenever he came home or at three in the morning as was his habit. Her eyes filled with tears and suddenly, she was on the floor midway between the kitchen and the living room crying. She did not know nor understand where it had come from other than that she probably needed a good cry. Repressing your emotions was so difficult at times.

"What happened?"

She had not heard the door open, she had not heard him come in, she had not noticed him on his knees next to her, gathering her in his arms or holding her tightly against him as she sobbed. She felt as though she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and all the misery and grief she felt overcame her. She was always so in control of herself.

She felt him lifting her off the ground and guiding her to the sofa. He left her a moment and came back with a glass of water that he handed her. He removed his suit jacket and undid his tie, his eyes never leaving her. He sat next to her, brought her head to his shoulder, his fingers moved in her hair, his lips brushed against the soft strands. He did not move or say anything. He just waited for her to speak.

"I'm moving out as soon as I find a place," she finally said as she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve.

He dropped the arm he had around her and looked at her with shock. Given the look on his face, she might as well have slapped him or told him she was from Venus. That would probably have been kinder and less painful. "What? Why? If this has anything to do with Morgan, she's nice but I will not be seeing her again," he shrugged.

Emma shook her head. "It has nothing to do with her. If you find someone who makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way?" She stood from her place and he did the same. "Killian, if you love me, you'll just let me go," her voice broke and she saw the color drain from his face.

"It's because I love you that I won't," he replied vehemently. "Don't you get it?"

"No, I will never get it, long as I live." He detected a hint of bitterness and self-loathing in her voice. God, they were so alike, he thought. She sounded defeated and so small. She was looking at him the way she looked at him when she thought he was concentrated on something. "You're my best friend in the world," she told him.

"And you are more than that to me," he answered back. "You always held my heart in the palm of your hands. The thing that matters the most to me in this world is you."

He was melting her resolve. If she stayed, she would keep hurting him. "You'll have my letter of resignation on your desk on Monday."

His eyes widened and he took a step back from her. "Why are you doing this?" he asked her. "Are you trying to hurt me? Are you trying to break me? You suddenly want to move out and now you want to quit your job. Are you also leaving the city while you're at it?" The look that passed in her eyes told him he was right. "I'm right, aren't I? You're just going to walk away from everything? Your home, your friends, me…"

She felt herself cracking and breaking. The looks he was giving her, he was hurt and furious with her. She imagined this would be the way he would look at her if he ever found out about those skeletons she kept buried deep in her closet. "I will leave and you will never think of me again. You will forget about me. I want you to go on and live a full and happy life. I want you to have everything you want."

"Are you joking?" His voice was low and broken, his British accent even more prominent whenever he was stressed or angry. "Everything I want? Everything I want is standing right here telling me she is cutting me out of her life without any further explanation. Why are you pulling away from me?"

"Sometimes the right path is not the easiest one."

"Please, spare your patronizing Confucian wannabe zen rubbish! You want to go? Then go! But before you do that, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. I want your eyes to look into mine and tell me you don't love me, then you can pick up your things and go. Tell me you don't love me, Emma."

She was certain looked like a deer caught in headlight. She could say those words now and end this once and for all. They could both go their separate ways. He would forget about her sooner or later. It was for the best. But the words were not forthcoming and her mouth was remaining decidedly shot.

Someday, she might bump into him somewhere and he will be there with the family he's always wanted, the wife who will likely look like Morgan, the children. She had seen him once with a baby in his arms and she had felt wistful. He was made for it, that was one thing she never doubted. They would probably look and smile politely at each other as strangers do and it would be one of those fleeting moments that would be filled with nothing regret for her. The image she conjured up in her mind was what she wanted for herself, wanted with him. She just did not feel as though she deserved it.

"Tell me you don't love me," he repeated as he started slowly closing the distance between them. "Tell me you don't love me," he took one step towards her. "Tell me you don't love me," he took another step. "Tell me you don't love me," he stood inches away from her. "Tell me you don't love me," she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Tell me you don't love me," there was agony in his eyes she had not seen since the day he had come to her to tell her his father was shipping him off to London. "Tell me you don't love me, Emma, please love, say something, anything," he insisted.

Her mouth remained shut and her eyes darted up, looked into his and then they closed as his mouth came crashing down on hers. His lips were hard, bruising, unforgiving. His tongue swept over her lips and forced her mouth open. She tilted her head and went into his body, the kiss deepened and overwhelmed her senses as her tongue met his and they both fought for control. Her hands crawled down his chest and her fingers fumbled on the buttons of his vest. Of all days to be wearing layers, she thought amid the fogginess that was assaulting and jumbling her senses. She grew frustrated as her fingers clumsily tried to undo his shirt. He pulled away from her as suddenly as he had been on her. His face was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. He turned his back to her and she could see his arm moving as he unbuttoned his shirt then the cuffs before removing it and dumping it to the couch in a heap along with his vest. The tidiest person she knew.

She saw his shoulders shaking and his hand flew to his hair and he rubbed it back and forth, back and forth several times so much so that his locks stood every which way as though he had just rolled out of bed. Her eyes glanced at the jagged scar around his left wrist. His hand had been narrowly saved after an explosion on the aircraft carrier he had been on. "I'm sorry for kissing you. I should not have," he finally said, turning around and staring at her. "You can stay as long as you need to, until you find a new place and a new job."

"I'm not," she finally spoke. "I'm not sorry you kissed me." This time she was the one who was closing the distance between them. "I'm not sorry you kissed me," she said. "And I'm not sorry that I feel more for you than I care to say," she stood in front of him. "I'm not sorry you kissed me," she repeated. "Kiss me again."

He looked at her astonished. "If I kiss you, Swan, I will never be able to stop."

"Maybe I don't want you to. Maybe I'm tired of running. Maybe I love you too as much as you love me. Maybe I've always wanted the same things you do."

He smiled at her. "What happened, Emma? You have been distant and cold."

"Nothing to concern yourself over," she replied running a hand up and down his chest, her fingers touching and exploring. She felt this new intimacy. "Sometimes the past can cloud everything and I am tired of letting it take over everything and dictate the way I should feel or conduct my life."

He put his hand over hers and brought it to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. "I just want you to be happy," he said.

"And I want nothing but that for you. I want you to be as happy as you've made me. No matter the circumstances, just being with you or around you always made me happy," she replied. She had come down from her earlier high and so had he and he was looking at her like she was the only person who existed. She got on the tip of her toes and brushed her lips against his.

The frantic kisses and quick movements not five minutes ago made way to something more tender and lingering. "Your room or mine?" he asked against her lips.

"Whichever is the closest," she undid his belt. He cupped her ass in his hands and lifted her high enough for her to be able to wrap her legs around his waist. She can feel his arousal through the thin fabric of his trousers, hitting her in her core with every step he took towards her bedroom. It was the one that was off the living room where they had been while his was right next to the kitchen.

He put her down on the bed gently and stared at her brushing her hair away, pushing the loose strands behind her ears, his tongue darting out as he concentrated on his task. "Are you sure about this?" he asked and the question brought up the memory of them being in this same exact position eleven years ago when she had told him she wanted him as they sat across from each other. She had been scared and nervous. She was a virgin and terrified after all the stories she had heard about how it felt like. She now knew some of the stories were exaggerated.

Her hand found the side of his face and she ran her fingers along the scar he had under his eye. After all these years, she was still scared and nervous. This…whatever they were about to do in her bed, there was no coming back from this. She would not be able to turn back the clock, she would not be able to go back in time and pretend it never happened or that it was a mistake because he would not allow her to. This meant too much for both of them to pretend it meant nothing. No matter what, for better or worst. The meaningless sex, the one night stands for both of them…she had a pretty good idea all of this was done and over with.

She would be brave enough to take this leap and risk it all. Her heart, her soul and everything in between…

"I am sure about this." He nodded she brought his head down to hers and their lips met again.

Soon after, the clothes were completely discarded and all her senses were heightened because of him.

Then…

Bliss.

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_**Hard as I've tried, I just can't bring myself to write anything and I mean anything remotely close to a love scene. I figure there are plenty of fics out there that are hmmm...descriptive and detailed? Hope no one is too disappointed by this.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**I would like to thank everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. The number of reviews was actually pretty awesome. So thank you and don't stop now! Thank you for following as well and reading.**_

_**The story will be skipping ahead six months after the first part and there will be a super brief timeline explanation at the end of the chapter just to make sure there's no confusion. I'm sort of a slow writer when it comes to plot and I like taking my time. I also know some are anxious to see the whole thing drop so I ask for some patience on this. It is going to happen.**_

_**I don't own the characters. And I saw those stills for Sunday and I just cannot wait!**_

_**Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate :)**_

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"Mr. Jones," Darlene peaked her head inside the den and waited for the man to acknowledge her presence. He finally looked up at her from over his halved grape fruit and business page. "What is it, Darlene?"

"Your morning appointment has arrived. Someone named Mrs. Black is here to see you," she said.

"Send her in," he ordered.

Richard Jones waited as an older woman wearing a severe dress stepped in. "Mr. Jones," she pursed her lips into a thin line as they stared at each other for a beat. He nodded at her to approach and she sat on the chair he pointed out to her. She pulled a folder out of her bag.

"The child is an absolute delight. Smart and engaging, sweet as can be, obedient and docile, always does as told. Very much loved by the other students and the teachers, has friends but is lonely." Mrs. Black had never heard single a complaint from her ward however.

"This transition to the new school is going well? And the new home? Is it to your liking?" he asked flipping through the folder Mrs. Black had handed him. It contained essays, art projects and the latest report card. He looked at it with great attention.

"Yes, Mr. Jones, everything is going very well, much better than expected."

Who could complain about a nice home in the heart of Manhattan all expenses paid, a fat paycheck to look after a child who had never been any trouble and keep a secret here and there? Mrs. Black would never be one to cry or whine about her situation. She had been with this child for close to eleven years now and though she never felt a maternal pull, she still cared enough. She just lacked the maternal instinct and fiber, but the child never complained and never attempted to get close to her. Sometimes, she felt sad for her little charge, but Mr. Jones had always been generous though he kept them both at arm's length. This was the first time she had come to this home. She usually sent him an email on the progress or phoned him directly. They met once in the residence he kept them in.

"Top of the class in everything that matters. Not bad," the man finally smiled. "And where is the little prodigy?" he asked when he suddenly heard music notes. "Is that…?"

The woman nodded. "That it is. School is out today. I hope you don't mind, the piano was there…"

"Not at all!" he replied. "Not at all! That piano needs a workout. It has been collecting dust for far too long."

No false notes, he thought, the music was flawless and beautiful. It reminded him of something from long ago, when Killian was forced to sit and practice after his lessons. He was very good despite the protests and the tantrums. He could only imagine the things his son could have done if he had applied himself more, if he had put his mind to it. Killian had been so unlike Liam much to his chagrin.

He stood and went into the living room and watched the child play. This little person's face, he had not looked down on that face since he had stepped out of that prison in Phoenix carrying the bundle in his arms. He now looked at it in wonderment as he realized it bore an uncanny resemblance to that of his late wife's and to another person, especially the chin. He refused to think of that. The child had auburn hair and doe eyes the color of turquoise, the perfect blend of green and blue. He was a little shell shocked by what he was staring at but recovered rather quickly.

His wife, he remembered was a fiery red-head. Both his sons had gotten their blue eyes from her, one was blond, the other one dark haired, just like him. He had often wondered how their lives would have been had he not been a neglectful husband, if both he and his wife had not strayed from their marriage, if Liam had not died, if he had been more attentive to his youngest son, if he had not been so irritated with him all the time because of his temperament, his unwillingness to do as he was bidden. When it came to that, Killian was much like his mother. The storm raged on the inside until it no longer did and everything spilled out much like a volcano erupting. He had rather stayed away from his son than try to understand him. That had always been his wife's job, but after she died, he had just given up altogether. She killed herself and left her darling love, as she called him, on his own.

Damn her to Hell!

He imagined that's what regret felt like. He had no patience for raising a child, no time to spare when his son craved attention, affection and love.

Then there was Killian's fondness for the Swan girl, someone he felt was not worthy of the Jones name given her murky background. That girl had turned his son inside out. His son had indeed made his choice a long time ago and no amount of threats had made him give her up.

His son was steadfast, loving, loyal and dutiful to a fault. Those were amazing qualities in any man, but not a man who had been lied to. Killian was a fool who let his heart and emotions rule and override his better judgment. He thought sending him all the way to London after he had mentioned marriage to the Swan girl (during one of their most heated arguments) when he was barely sixteen would have cured him of whatever it was he felt for her. He thought sending him far away would make him forget about her.

He was not wrong about a lot of things, but he had been completely off the mark about that supposition and he was staring at the proof of that.

So instead of trying to embrace his son, he had made good on his promise and disowned him. The affair with Milah and the subsequent sex tape Killian had not known about, holding on to the Swan girl, the troubles in school, him being gossip magazines fodder, the way he had threatened their way of life and everything around and in between. Killian was the son of a well-known successful businessman who had to rebuild everything brick by brick after his own father had lost it all. He was a success story, someone who was innovative and inventive, someone people aspired to be. He was a well respected politician. Reputation was everything in this type of environment and people talked. They could not wait to stab you in the back first chance they got. It was a dog eat dog world, one that Killian wanted no part of. And Richard Jones was simply done with his son after that.

If there was one thing he learned from this whole sordid experience was that he was not made to be a father. He could have done without children. They had brought him nothing but pain and misery. He had lost Liam to death and Killian to that heart of his, a heart that clearly never had enough room in it for his father.

While he resented that, he could not lay the blame squarely on his son's shoulders.

He shook his head and examined the face, watched as the slender fingers ran on the piano keys. The eyes were closed and a shy, happy smile appeared on the lips of the child. The eyes flew open again and stared off into space. The smile disappeared and the eyes became sad and clouded with tears. The change in demeanor had been abrupt. He suddenly wished he had been a little more involved in this young life, tried to redeem himself for the sake of his son. Except for the reports he got, he had never really bothered.

He saw the empty glass of milk and plate on the side table and knew instantly the child had fondness for that overly sweet dessert his son loved so much. Since his last visit, Darlene had decided to keep those cookies on hand in case he ever decided to drop by, something Richard Jones knew would not happen long as he still drew breath.

He looked at the concentrated face. Freckles, he noticed. He knew exactly where those had come from.

It was always the little things, he thought. He turned around and headed back to the den. He picked up the folder and handed it back to Mrs. Black. "Do come back, Mrs. Black. I have missed the sound of that piano."

_._

_._

_Six Months Later_

Mary Margaret looked at Emma rushing around the bedroom. Multiple drawers were open; a luggage also lay open on the floor. "You look happy," she finally said.

"That's because I am happy," Emma replied with a wide smile as she ripped off the tags from the bikini she had purchased earlier in the week.

"Married life agrees with you."

Emma sat next to her. "I'm still having a hard time believing that. He has a way of talking me into his most insane schemes."

Mary Margaret laughed at that. "Well he has been working on this scheme for a very long time," she said, "and now he's stealing you away to the South Pacific. You guys deserve a break."

_Emma's eyes flickered open and tried to adjust to the daylight.__Next to her, Killian was asleep with his head buried under his pillow, his wedding band glinting under the sun that was filtrating through the pale curtains of the bedroom they shared.__She smiled and looked down at her own hand, her own platinum band shining on her finger.__She had never really pegged herself as the marrying type.__She had been kicked around for so long that she had never really considered that this…what she had woken up to was even a remote possibility in her life.__But here she was._

_Things in their lives had proceeded as normal, except they were now in a relationship and closer than ever if that was even possible.__It was six months to the day since she had finally let him completely in.__The day after, she had woken up in a daze and stared at the ceiling.__He was already out of bed and she could hear the racket he was making in the kitchen.__She had sat up and ran a hand through her disheveled hair as she stifled a yawn.__They had done the deed and she could not bring herself to regret it hard as she tried.__When she weighed the pros and cons, the pros column was long by miles._

_She remembered the looks that had passed between their friends when she and Killian had kissed goodbye at the end of their Monday morning meeting.__So much for keeping the blossoming relationship under wraps for a little while before telling them about it.__Emma sighed with contentment._

_Their relationship was still going strong after 5 months.__They had been watching a terrible movie on a Sunday night, sitting on the floor with beers and pizza when he had asked her to marry him between a bite of food and a sip of his drink._

_"__What do you say, Swan?__We're practically married anyway, might as well make it official."__He had taken a large bite of his all-dressed slice and chewed all the while staring at her and waiting for an answer.__She had suddenly felt exposed.__She knew it was something he wanted badly, but her insecurities reared their ugly head every now and then as they did so the moment he had spoken of marriage._

_"__What if it doesn't work out?" she asked him putting her beer on the table._

_"__Well," he picked the bottle off the table and put it on the coaster, "I think you're selling what we have short.__You should try and have faith sometime."_

_"__You're an idealist, Killian, a dreamer.__I'm a realist.__One of us needs to keep us grounded."_

_"__No, Swan, I'm pragmatic.__You might be a realist, but you are also extremely cynical."_

_"__That maybe true up to a certain extent but where everything matters, you are a dreamer, Killian.__You're the one who always had these ideas of having a ship and sailing around the world.__You're the one who sees our children when you look at me.__You're the one who always had these grand plans, these grand dreams, not me…I am a realist and you are a dreamer.__It's always been like this."_

_"__Well, Emma Swan, dreamers need the realists to keep them from flying too close to the sun.__As for you, my darling realist, you might never get off the ground without this dreamer.__So what do you say, love?__Trust me and take a leap of faith? You and I never sink, we always swim."_

_"__You are a rare man, Killian Jones," she whispered._

_"__And you are a rare woman, Emma Swan," he winked at her, stretching his hand out to her.__"What do you say, love?" She looked at him for a beat before she took it._

_"__Do I need to sign a pre-nup or something?"_

_"__Don't be silly, Swan.__This," he gestured with his finger between them, "it's for life.__You're basically stuck until I draw my last breath."_

_"__Your father would be pissed if he ever heard you speak this way."_

_"__The old git can sod off for all I care," he replied._

_The day before, she had woken up, gotten into a white strapless sweetheart neckline, knee length summer dress.__It was simple yet elegant for a small civil ceremony at City Hall.__Six months to the day since they had finally gotten together and become a couple._

_"__You look stunning, Swan," he had told her.__Four words that had made the heat rise to her cheeks.__He knew exactly how to turn her inside out._

_"__You don't look so bad yourself."__He looked like he had stepped out of the cover of GQ with his black suit, white shirt and black tie.__And it had taken him thirty minutes to get ready, shower included.__No fuss…_

_They were met by David, Mary Margaret and Ruby when they arrived at City Hall.__Everything happened quickly, the exchange of vows, of rings, a kiss she did not want to end.__The papers were signed by the newlyweds and their witnesses before everyone was on their way.__They had dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate and had gone home afterwards to spend their first night together as husband and wife._

"When is Killian due back from the office?" Mary Margaret asked as she crossed her legs on the bed.

"Soonish, I'm assuming. We have to be at the airport in three hours, so he still has plenty of time. Are you sure you guys will be okay on your own for a week?"

"Of course we will be. Other than the drug dealing in Wonderland which Ruby seems to have a handle on, all the other cases are small ones."

"You and David make sure Ruby isn't in over her head."

"Of course. Her next undercover is in three days. We will be ready." Mary Margaret took a deep breath and braced herself. "Emma, there's something I've been meaning to ask you and I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

Emma looked at her for a beat before adding more shirts in the luggage. "What's that?"

She had been sitting on this one for a while now. "Your son, he looks nothing like you. I mean we have seen him a few times now and he doesn't look like you at all."

"I know that," Emma replied. That was something that had been nagging her more than she cared to admit. She had gone out to Queens several times and sat in her car watching him as he played, his adoptive father never far away from him. She had even pushed the limit to snapping a few pictures of him that she had developed and then destroyed. He did not look like her in the least. Hard as she tried to see the resemblance, she had found none. He did not have her smile, he did not have her eyes, her chin or her nose. She always thought she would be able to see some of herself in him.

"I guess he looks like his father at that age," she shrugged. That had been the excuse she used every time she looked upon that face. Her gut kept telling her that something was off however.

"Does he?" Mary Margaret asked again. "I mean I've never met the guy, but do you see any kind of resemblance between them?"

"God, Mary Margaret, I don't know, okay? I just don't know!" She felt exasperated and on edge. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have before catching a flight.

Mary Margaret glimpsed at her friend. "Emma, are you having doubts about it?"

Emma shook her head. "I honestly don't know." She kept filling the luggage with hers and Killian's things. Leaving for a week would be good. It would give her the time she needed to think about this, maybe do the investigating herself this time. She could request her prison files and look at them.

She heard the door open and then close. She gave Mary Margaret a warning look and the woman raised her hands in the air signaling that she wasn't going to say anything.

"Ladies," Killian smiled at both as he walked into the bedroom. "How are you doing with the packing?" he asked Emma.

"It's coming along. How were things in the office?"

"I showed David how to use some of the new trackers, so everyone should be good to go for the undercover in Wonderland," he grinned and Emma rolled her eyes.

Wonderland was the name of the upscale strip club they had been staking for close to seven months now. There was an elaborate drug operation they had yet to come to the bottom of.

"It's a _wonderful_ name!"

"Right!" she shook her head at him and continued with the task at hand just as his cell phone rang. He raised an eye brow when he saw the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Emma asked him.

"It's Darlene," he looked at her confused. He swiped the screen with his thumb and brought the device to his ear. "Hello?" he slipped a hand in his pocket. "Slow down…when did this happen…"

The conversation was suddenly over and he dropped the cell phone on the nightstand.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked him. He was scratching the back of his ear before his hand started travelling restlessly in his hair. He looked stressed and agitated.

"My father had a heart attack," he said sitting on the bed next to Mary Margaret. "He had a heart attack this morning. He just came out of surgery."

"You should go to him, Killian," Emma finally said. "You'll regret not being there if he dies."

Mary Margaret looked at her friends. This was not a conversation she should be there for, so she left the room discretely.

"I can't go to him. He disowned me, he hates me and I'm not exactly his number one fan, I can't stand him. If he wakes up while I'm there, he might have another heart attack that would likely do him in this time."

"Don't be stubborn, he's still your father no matter what happened between the two of you. You're the only family he has. If you don't do it for him then do it for yourself."

"We are supposed to go on our honeymoon."

She sighed. "The honeymoon can wait, this situation cannot. Go to him. I can tell you're worried, Killian. I don't want you to have regrets. Please!"

She was looking at him with pleading eyes and he could never say no to her. "Alright," he said. "I'll go see him."

"Good," Emma replied as she started taking everything she had put in the luggage out. "I'll be at the office if you look for me."

He nodded at her and kissed her before picking up his phone and heading out.

She exhaled the breath she didn't realize she had been holding and dialed the airline company and hotel to cancel their projects.

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_**Regarding the timeline...Chapter starts sort of where the other one ended. The story then skips ahead 6 months from basically where the previous chapter ended. Emma and Killian have been a couple for 6 months and got married on their 6th month anniversary. The next day is the day after they got married and Emma is packing for their trip when Killian finds out about the whole heart situation. Hope it helps :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

"Killian, I'm so glad you made it," Darlene smiled at him.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"He was in the den having breakfast," she started. "He got a phone call and was clutching at his chest not two minutes after he had hung up. I called an ambulance, he was brought here. The surgery did not take long…"

"What was the phone call about? Did he say something?"

He had said a lot of things, she remembered, called his son every name in the book while he tried to breathe and clawed at his chest. She had no idea what that phone call had been about. He had just listened, thanked the person on the other end and picked up the World section of the newspaper. She could see the deep frown on his face and the barely suppressed fury. He looked enraged, like he was going to lose his temper any second.

But there were things she simply could not bring herself to tell Killian. She had called him because she felt he should know about his father's condition. She had done it for the son, not for her boss. Her boss, she could take or leave. He had provided her with a good enough living, paid her vacation, sick days, overtime when needed and in return she cooked, cleaned, took care of the household and closed her eyes when she saw weird things, like the child who came over every now and then for the past six months and played the piano while her boss sat somewhere in the house and just listened. The resemblance between the child and the Jones clan was striking and had left her wondering. There were always more questions than answers where that family was concerned.

She recalled the day she glimpsed him in Killian's nursery swabbing the newborn's mouth for a DNA test barely two days after he was brought home from the hospital. The doubts, she imagined had been erased when he held his son for the first time nearly three weeks after the incident she had witnessed.

In all her years of service, Darlene had witnessed fights and affairs, heard lies and saw much deceit. If being rich made you behave this way, than she was grateful for what she had and no more.

She wondered how the boys had turned out to be good boys. Liam though he was close to his mother had had enough of both his parents when he decided to go to boarding school. Darlene remembered the regret in the boy's face when he asked her to look after his brother. He had broken her heart that day. She had done as best as she could and she was most grateful that Emma had come into Killian's life when she did. As screwed up as the girl's life had been, she was the calm in the storm and a bright light in his dark tunnel.

"He didn't say anything," she lied. "He was in pain and I was worried he was going to die while we waited for help." Why would she tell him the truth and hurt him further?

"You should go home to your family," he said at last. "You look exhausted. Go home, take the rest of day, it will be our secret."

He looked at her as she walked down the hospital hallway, leaving him standing in front of the room in ICU. He took a deep breath then exhaled. There was not a chance in Hell he would be standing here if Emma had not insisted. He thought with regret about their cancelled trip to the Pacific Islands, the rented bungalow near the hotel right on a private little beach, the small boat tied to the dock, the snorkeling equipment, that bikini she would not get to wear. He thought about the week in paradise they would not get to have. He did not think he could hate his father more in that moment. If he didn't get in that room, he would lose his nerve completely.

So he did what was expected of him. He put his hand on the door knob and turned it, ever so slowly in case he changed his mind. The lock clicked and he pushed the door open and stepped inside. His father was already wide awake from his surgery. Leave it to him to make it seem like having your chest cracked open is a simple walk in the park.

Killian concluded that his father was really the devil himself.

The man looked at him before his eyes settled back on the papers he no doubt terrorized a poor nurse into bringing him. Killian was surprised there was no laptop or tablet knowing his father's obsessive behavior when it came to the market fluctuations.

"You're in ICU for fuck's sake," he finally said. "Should you not be sleeping or barely waking up from surgery. It's called ICU for a reason."

"You're being foul," his father said.

"Well, it's too late for you to raise me properly, so..."

"What are you doing here?" the older man asked as he adjusted himself on the bed.

"I was forced to come see you," Killian replied in his nonchalant way, pulling the chair and plopping on it loudly. "So here I am."

"I'm touched by your concern, truly."

They both sat there silently. "So a heart attack?"

"Thanks to you," he retorted. He always knew this boy would be the death of him. His eyes fell on the wedding band his son was sporting. The report he had received was true then. His son had gotten married to the Swan girl after all.

The obnoxious twit!

"I have no idea what it means and I don't care to find out."

"You married the Swan girl then."

"Stop calling her the Swan girl, her name is Emma. And yes, I married her, not that this should be a concern of yours," he replied flippantly, crossing his arms over his chest, making sure his father got an eye full of the ring he was wearing. He saw his father's eyes boring on his hand.

"I will never understand what you love about that girl."

What's not to love, Killian wondered. I love her eyes and how the color changes like a mood ring. I love the way her hair frames her face and tumbles around her when she takes it down. I love her shy smiles as much as I love the unguarded ones and her laughter sounds like music. I love what she looks like when she wakes up and how her body curves and feels against mine. I love how we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. I love how she gave me possibilities and makes me want to be a better man for her. I love how she doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. I love how big her heart is. I love how brave she is and how she wants to be the best person she can be.

"I love her and I love everything about her and that's all you need to know, old man," Killian replied hotly.

"Love?" the man snorted. "Do you even know what the word means?"

"That's rich coming from you. You cheated on Mother more times than I care count. You did not love her enough when she wanted to foster Emma. You did not love her enough to see her through Liam's death. You certainly did not love me enough to be my father when I needed you, so as far as your lofty opinions on love go, I could give a bloody buggering fuck about anything you have to say," he stood abruptly. "And you know something else? Why don't you do us both a favor and just die already so that I can finally be free of you?"

"I see you haven't changed. I guess the concept is overrated when it comes to you. You are perfectly happy wallowing in mediocrity, using fairytale code names and surrounding yourself with flunkies. It probably makes you feel better."

How in the bloody hell did he know about the code names they used (Ruby was Red, Mary Margaret was Snow White, Emma, the Lost Princess though she had fought them on it, David was Charming and he was Hook because he had nearly lost his hand and the small hook tattoo he had on his wrist).

"Flunkies? Really? How are they flunkies? Is it because we don't wear suits and ties and don't make millions that we're losers in your book? We have all gone to school, we all have degrees. You keep telling me I haven't changed but neither have you. Still the same jerk I grew up with. You want to hear something interesting? Here it is. I am happy the way things are. I have good friends, a thriving business no thanks to you and a woman whom I love and who means everything in the world to me. As my father, that should be more than enough for you."

Richard Jones huffed. "A woman you love?"

"Please don't say a word about her if you're going to slander her."

"You say you love everything about her?" his father answered back. "Does that include the lies she has been feeding you?" The heart monitor started beeping loudly.

"What are you talking about? Emma has never lied to me about anything."

"Hasn't she?" the man screamed at his son. "Hasn't she? Has she ever told you about the child she had when she was seventeen? Has she ever told you about her stint in jail? Has she told you how she has been going to Queens to see the child she threw away like yesterday's trash?" he looked at his Killian's dumbfounded face. "I see this is all news to you. Before you chastise me about what a terrible father I have been and how I'm a liar and a cheater and everything else, you should take a long hard look at your bride."

"Are you having her tailed?" Killian asked. "Answer me!" he said quietly but forcefully. "You had your heart attack after you found out we were married, didn't you?" he asked. "Didn't you?" he yelled, his temper flared and he could imagine himself putting his hands around his father's neck and squeezing. He could just grab a pillow and smother him with it. None would be the wiser. Why was he even awake? Why was he berating him? He did not need an answer about the tailing. All he had to do was look at the man's face.

"I see she has kept a few secrets from you," he finally said. "She lied to you about everything."

"What she told me or did not tell me is none of your business or concern. You forfeited that right a long time ago," he chuckled. "She wanted me to come see you," he told him. "She wanted me to come see you because she was worried I would have regrets if you died. The truth is I wish I had not listened to her and I wish you had died."

He said it and he felt good. The guilt he had felt at those thoughts had vanished. His father's face was a mask of anger, his heart monitor was beeping frantically. A nurse and a doctor rushed in, the woman practically shoved him out of the way. She pressed buttons on the machine and the beeping mercifully stopped. He didn't care for his father's heart but the noise had been loud and abrasive. He stared down at his father who kept looking at him.

"Why don't you ask your precious Emma about her child?" his father's voice rose as he slapped the doctor's hand away. "Stop prodding me and get the hell out of this room!" he yelled at both the doctor and the nurse.

"You need to be put down, old man. You are worst than a rabid dog!"

"I gave you a home, you ungrateful bastard!"

"No, you never gave me a home. You gave me a roof," Killian spat back. "I did _not_ have a home, I had a roof! Emma gave me a home."

"What are you doing here? He's not allowed visitors," the doctor quipped realizing he had no control over the situation. "Please leave!"

"Gladly," Killian replied. "As for you, _Father_" he put emphasis on the word, his voice then dripping with sarcasm, "leave my wife the hell alone, got it?"

He didn't wait around for a reply. He turned his back on the man who was now yelling at the doctor and the nurse and left the room. He stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. Whatever energy he had had been completely sapped by that man. He couldn't call him his father anymore, how could he?

He sighed. The shock of hearing that Emma might have had a child had not worn off. Much to his dismay, he had not been able to hide his reaction. He had been startled by what he had been told, tried to hide it as well as he could. He defended her, because no matter what, he thought she had her reasons for keeping this from him. While he wore his mask of indifference well enough, the way he felt inside was a very different story. His father was keeping tabs on both of them. He was certain they had been followed to City Hall yesterday. He was good at spotting a tail and so was Emma. How they never noticed someone had been following them for God knows how long was a complete mystery.

Emma had a child when she was seventeen, the words kept replaying in his mind over and over. It had to be his child. Where was it now? Was that the reason she refused to enter in a relationship with him?

He walked out of the hospital and hailed a cab.

Answers, he needed answers and the only person who could provide those was Emma. He did not know if he was angry that she would keep something so important from him or if he was angry that she did not trust him enough to tell him something that was so life changing.

He thought back at what he had seen in the bathroom garbage the week before when he was picking up the toothpaste he had accidentally dropped on the floor next to it. She still had not told him about that. But as always he waited, did not want to push.

The cab ride felt long and there seemed to be more traffic than usual. He was one block away from the office, so he paid the driver and hopped off. He was certain he'd get there more quickly. The longer it took for him to confront her, the more agitated and upset he got.

Was it a boy or a girl? he wondered. Did it have dark hair or light hair? Blue eyes or green ones? Did she have a picture of the baby? Did she look at it when she missed it? Did she regret parting with it?

Had the child been adopted or was it in some foster home?

Surely she would not do that to her own child given how much she had suffered while she was in the system. She had been jerked around, changed families countless times. She had had no sense of stability, never enough love, never enough compassion or understanding and barely any respect. She had been taken advantage of, hurt emotionally. He remembered her telling him stories about her foster parents, the ones who were only waiting for the pay check for taking care of children like her. He remembered how she had to toughen up just to be able to survive.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he stepped into the office. She was there but so was everyone else. She looked up and smiled at him.

That was something else he loved about her so much, how her smile could light up the worst of his days, except it was not working right this moment. Instead, he felt as though that smile had stabbed him in the heart repeatedly.

Why didn't she tell him about this? Was she worried he would judge her? Hate her? Leave her?

How could she do this to their child? Leave it behind when they both had been left behind.

"How's your father?" she asked him.

"He'll live," he replied his eyes unable to meet hers. "He'll probably outlive all of us because he's such a despicable human being."

"You don't look good," she started towards him.

"I need to talk to you alone," he said and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes darted over his face, studying it intently and he heard her suck on her breath.

"What did he say to you?" she asked him crossing her arms over her chest. He could see the dread that passed over her face and. She was terrified, he surmised.

He looked terrible, she thought. His eyes were vacant as though the spark behind them had been extinguished somehow. His shoulders were slumped and he looked as though he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "What did he say to you?" she repeated. Her heart was beating entirely too fast and her breathing had become shallow. Panic gripped her slowly at first before her entire body started shaking. She wanted to throw up. The looks he was giving her, the way his eyes were studying her with such intensity.

He finally walked towards her and grabbed her by the elbow. "Let's go in my office," he said.

"No," she forced him to release her by slapping his hand away. "Just say it. Just tell me what it is that he said to you."

"He said you had a child when you were seventeen." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mary Margaret lower her eyes and David fidget uncomfortably. He looked at Emma who wasn't saying anything.

He cleared his voice. "I see," he said and she registered the change of tone in his voice, the hurt in it. "So you clearly thought it was okay for Mary Margaret to know about this. And she probably told David because we both know she can't really keep secrets. And you, Ruby? Did you know too?" he looked at the other woman who shook her head vigorously. "No, I didn't know."

"Oh good! I don't feel so lonely in my ignorance now. I thought you and I were mates, David."

"He didn't…"Mary Margaret started.

"I didn't ask you," Killian replied coldly. "And you," he turned to Emma. "How could you keep this from me? I have a child somewhere out there and you didn't think I should know about it? Why?"

"He's not yours," she said under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I said he's not yours!" she said louder.

"Brilliant!" his voice dripped with bitterness. He turned around and he heard her footsteps rushing behind him. This time she grabbed his arm and he jerked it away from her. "Go to Hell, Swan!" The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. She looked as devastated as he did, but he could not bring himself to reach for her.

"Killian…"

"I need some air," he said. He got in the elevator. Once he made it to the lobby and then outside, he took his phone out and looked through his contacts. "Philip? This is Killian Jones," he spoke. "I need you to find out everything you can on someone called Emma Swan…I have her date of birth, it's 22-10-1983…I need you to work fast on this, I shall pay you double for your trouble. I'm especially interested is anything from year 2000 onward…it's urgent…let me know if you need other information."

Philip was one of the best hackers in the business. He had come through for him several times when he needed extra information on a case. He knew he would leave no stone unturned. He also knew he was invading her privacy, she would stop trusting him after this. Things would irrevocably change between them. They had been married for a day only and he was having someone look into her past. He was not proud of himself but he did not feel he was really left a choice because of the sudden doubts he was having about her. He needed to know for certain whether this child was his or not.

He walked the short distance between the office and the penthouse and proceeded to tear it apart starting with the room they used as a home office. He moved from room to room, going into closets and drawers. "About bloody time," he exclaimed once he put his hand on the folder hidden beneath all the feminine products of the last drawer of her nightstand. He opened it and gave it a quick scan before shoving it in his satchel along with some clothes. There was no way he could spend the night in the penthouse. Hotel it was. He did a quick search on his phone and reserved a room.

He went to the parking garage and threw his things in his car. His cell phone rang. He did not have to look at it to know who was calling him. David and Emma had been both at it since he had left the office.

Once he sat in his car, he pulled the file out again and stared at the picture. The lad he thought looked absolutely nothing like Emma and certainly nothing like him. Hard as he tried to see the resemblance, there was none there.

The file was rather thin, he thought as he flipped through it. Whoever had investigated this had not done as thorough a job as him or his partners would have. It was curious that Emma had just taken this, accepted it. It was not like her to take a half-assed job at face value. She must have been desperate. There were no adoption papers in the folder, but there were names and an address of the people who adopted the boy. He also he found the birth certificate.

If he wasn't the father, then why was his name the one printed in that space? He ran a finger over it. The space for the lad's name had been left vacant. Emma had probably not given him a name. Born in the county jail in Phoenix? He looked at the date of birth. He wasn't sure how she knew for certain he wasn't the father. There was clearly someone else right after him and perhaps that's who the lad looked like.

He put the file down on the passenger seat and drove to the hotel.

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"I can't believe you had a baby," Ruby muttered under her breath.

"He's not answering his phone," David said. "It seems he's not taking your calls or mine."

She was holding a glass of water with a shaky hand, her eyes staring off into space. The thing she was worried the most about…she could not get over the appearance of his face, the hurt, the distrustful look he had thrown her way, how he had jerked his arm away from her, almost violently. In all their years together, he had never looked at her like that, behaved with her that way. He had never spoken harsh words to her, even in his anger with her, he was always even-tempered.

"He'll come back," Mary Margaret was telling her in a soothing voice.

"He won't," Emma replied.

"He loves you."

"I don't see how he could since I actually hate me right now."

"You thought you were doing the right thing."

"His father…I hate that man so much! Why did he open his mouth? Why did he even bring this up?"

"How much do you think Killian knows?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I doubt he knows everything. I'm sure he has no idea his father visited me while I was in jail."

She sighed. "Ruby, I'd like to take over for your undercover tonight. They know me at Wonderland. Can you call in sick and tell them I'll be replacing you?"

"Shouldn't you try and find Killian instead?" Ruby replied taken aback. Wonderland was her gig and she had worked her ass off to collect as much information as she could, but the look on Emma's face was a very determined one. "We could do this together. Wednesdays are extremely busy. They could use another waitress."

"Okay," Emma replied. Undercover in Wonderland, among strippers, escorts and drug pushers. She hadn't had a Wednesday evening like this one in a really long time. It was time to break out the skimpy outfit. "Thanks, Ruby," she attempted a smile.

Ruby pulled her phone out and started typing.

_Hook, should know Lost Princess planning UC W w/ me.__Very distraught, could be liability.__~Red_

She wasn't even sure he had his pre-paid cell phone on him but she had to give it a try. Once she was done sending her text message to Killian, she dialed the club and spoke to the manager. "It's a go, Emma," she told her. "Wipe your tears away, we have some bad guys to catch."

Ruby looked at Mary Margaret who shook her head. She understood very well why Emma wanted to do this, but as far as bad ideas went, this one up there. "You know you can still back out. I mean you can go home and talk to Killian, explain to him whatever the story is."

"He turned off his cell phone GPS, I don't even know where he is," Emma replied. "I'm going to the penthouse to grab some of the things I'll be needing. I'll meet you back here."

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_**Over a 100 follows for the story! Thank you very much everyone who has taken the time. It means something!**_

_**Cheers :)**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_Sorry for not updating sooner, I got completely side tracked by life._**

**_As always, I wanted to thank everyone who takes the time to read, everything who follows, everyone who leaves a review. The characters do not belong to me. I will try and get another chapter up by Sunday, the day most of this fandom probably dies of a massive heart attack, of crying too much or just dies generally speaking._**

**_Cheers :)_**

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"What is it?" she asked him. They were both naked under the cool sheets and she moved her body into his, taking in his warmth. He had that faraway look in his eyes and even in the darkness of the room, she could see it. Or maybe she didn't see it, she just felt it. It had always been like that with them. It didn't matter how long they were apart, they had a connection. They could always tell with each other.

_Open books._

"Nothing," he replied wrapping his arm tighter around her.

"Is it your father?" she asked. This was one of those topics they did not bring up often and she was not especially happy about doing so now, especially after what they had just shared, their first time together. This night had been special to her and she felt as though she was destroying some of its sanctity.

"Is it not always about my father?" he replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. His body had tensed against hers. "I'm leaving tomorrow, I was just wondering if I should go see him or not."

He looked at her then stared at the ceiling. He counted the small holes one by one for the third time. He sighed. "Do you really want to go see him knowing he will either refuse to see you or tell something so hurtful that you will just carry around with you either for the next two years or the rest of your life?"

She sat up, wrapping some of the bed sheet around her bare chest before leaning in and brushing her lips against his. "Your father is that dragon you will have to slay eventually."

"A dragon?" he chuckled. "His a sodding ass, I don't know about dragon."

"It's a metaphor, Killian."

"You speak in metaphors now, Swan?" he asked as he ran a finger along her naked shoulder.

"All jokes aside," she made a grab for his hand and kept it in hers, "people are going to tell you who you are your whole life and the father you have the sad misfortune of having will be no different. You have to punch back and say no, this is who I am. You want him to look at you differently? Then make him. You have to do this yourself because there are no fairy Godmothers in this world."

"When did you become so wise?"

She snorted. "Do you not remember who you're talking to? You are giving me way too much credit. I'm not all that wise, you know. The last woman from the group home in Boston, she said something like that to me before I took off. She was right. This world is not a fairy tale. She told me I should not let anyone define my limits because of where I come from."

He thought of all the times his father had ragged on her because she was an orphan. Irresponsible people should not have children if they're going to dump them, he had said over and over.

"You are wrong, you deserve all the credit in the world. You should hold on to what that woman said to you. It sounds like great advice. And you should definitely not let anyone tell you who you are or what you are. If people knew you like I did, Swan…"

She smiled at him tenderly. This was advice she did not know what to do with, she reflected. She was barely an adult. She was trying to feel her way around the world and figure her place out. She had a good grasp on how things worked, she had just expected that she would work everything else out with him, but he had to leave and she had doubts they would be able to find each other again. There was always a war somewhere in the world after all and danger. She had decided the moment she found out he was leaving that she would not be staying in this city either. If he wasn't here then neither should she. He was the one who made this place home and without him, there was none of that.

"Do you remember the blood pact?" she asked him.

"You mean the spit pact. As I recall, that was _not_ our finest moment," they both laughed remembering the promise they had made each other that they would never let anyone come between them, ever.

"It was pretty gross come to think of it. It's also one of my best memories," her voice shook. They had been so young and naïve. They had not changed much, she reflected. Still young, still naïve, still innocent.

"I would rather spend the extra two hours I have with you, then with him," he finally said. "So I got this when I was at school and had it engraved."

"What is it?" she asked looking at the small box he pulled out of the duffle bag that lay abandoned beside the bed.

"I got them on the off chance that I would be able to find you," he handed her the box. "They're a twin set, compasses." She looked at him as she opened the box. There was one compass inside, the diameter of a casino chip. It was a golden bronze and looked like a vintage piece. It was beautiful.

"Where's the twin?" she took the compass in her hand and looked at it closely. She saw her initials engraved in the back of it with the outline of a swan and a star.

"It's right here," he showed her his key chain. "It feels awkward in my pocket though," he smiled at her widely. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," her eyes met his as she took the keys from him and started working his compass out of the chain. "But I think this will be better," she replaced the compass that was meant for her on his key chain and took his with his initials in the back. "A ship? Is that a star?"

"I love ships and navigating. You've always known that," he replied. "Remember when we used to lie down on the grass and look at the stars or those light shows at the planetarium?"

"You once told that all you had to do was follow the stars to find me," she remembered. "Of course, it's a lot easier when you have an address to go to."

"I found you this time, didn't I?"

"Did you follow the stars?" She gave him back his key chain. "You have mine now and I have yours. That way you'll always be able to find me, stars or no stars," she let him know.

"I don't need a trinket to be able to find you, Emma."

"I…thank you." That was not what she wanted to say really, but he would be gone tomorrow and telling him she loved him overwhelmed her and she thought it might overwhelm him as well. And they were there in the moment and she did not want to ruin it. The truth was, she was not sure she would see him again after tonight and did not want things to be awkward between them, did not want things to be sadder than they were or make his leaving more difficult than it already was.

He pulled her down in his arms and kissed her and her thoughts were clouded and her legs were wrapped around his waist when he crawled on top of her. She would make the most of the time they had left together.

This night was theirs, for better or worse, it was theirs and she would make the most of it.

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Emma pulled on her fishnet stockings for what seemed to be the millionth time. She adjusted the top of her thigh high boots and picked up the tray from the bar. Someone whistled at her as she walked past a table.

_Pig!_

Wonderland was a private gentlemen's club. Rich, powerful men came here to indulge in their vices. She felt the bile rise whenever she thought about it.

"A double vodka dry," she started, "a scotch neat and one on the rocks," she put down the last drink in front of an older man. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ruby fending off someone's advances with a wide smile and a few laughs. Emma had no idea how she did it, all she wanted to do was break someone's arm right this moment as she looked down at the man who had gotten a hold of her hip and tried to pull her on his lap. "You know, sweetheart," he began, "I will be taking a turn in the VIP room shortly," his hand travelled up under her breast. She took his hand and pushed it down to his side and got up as gracefully as she could, trying to maintain her dignity and not blow her cover.

"I'm a waitress," she said with a smile, "not an escort or a stripper. I don't do the whole sex thing." She didn't wait for a reaction from the man, she walked away adjusting her skin tight dress. She wanted to throw up. These men could wear all the expensive suits they wanted, they could not hide who they were deep down.

Her eyes drifted to David who was sitting at the bar, seemingly nursing his drink. "Are you okay?" she heard his voice in her ear. She gave him an imperceptible nod. The music got louder as the evening's main show was starting. Some kinky burlesque stripping show like they had over in Europe. Wonderland tried hard to live up to its reputation.

"Drugs are changing hands," Ruby whispered near her ear.

"I see it," Emma replied. "David?"

"On it!" he replied in her ear piece.

"Killian is also outside," Ruby told her. "He is doing surveillance."

Emma looked at Ruby for a beat. "Did you tell him I would be here?"

"I texted him to let him know about the change of plans, then tracked him down at the Carlyle, he's staying there for a few days to sort himself out."

"Why would you tell him?"

Ruby sighed with exasperation. "Because he's our boss and he should know when changes are made?" She narrowed her eyes at Emma. "You can't blame him for the reaction he had. You lied to him!"

"You know, Ruby, it's a lot more complicated than you're making it sound. He was gone, a lot of time had passed. He hadn't been part of my life for more than six years. Also, and just an FYI, you're starting to make me angry. You know nothing about me."

"No you're right, I know nothing about you and neither does your husband apparently. The reason he's here is because he wants to make sure you're okay. He's here because he has your back which is more than what I can say for you."

And just like that, she walked away from her. Emma shook her head. There were levels of confrontation and she particularly hated this type of confrontation especially when it was with her friends and when she was the one who was in the wrong.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw the door to the manager's office wide open and no one inside. This was her chance. She looked around quickly and headed inside. She pushed the door closed behind her and headed to the desk in the corner.

Outside in the car, Killian cursed under his breath when he saw Emma disappear in the room. He lost all visual on her once she got inside. "Ruby? Can you hear me?" he asked. She had done this before, he kept telling himself. Emma knew how to handle herself. "Ruby!" he hissed. He saw her flip her hair and touch her ear as she smiled at a client. "Emma has gone into the office. I have no eyes on her."

He picked up his cell phone and left his car. As angry as he was with her, he hoped she would not do something ridiculous and put herself at risk. He would have to speak to Ruby about the things she said. Arguing over what had happened earlier during a job like this one was uncalled for and while he appreciated her friendship, he also felt she crossed the line. He did not need defending. Whatever was going on between he and Emma, they would sort it out on their own with no outside interferences.

"Let go of me!" he heard Emma's voice.

That had not taken very long, he thought. He saw a burly man drag Emma in the alley behind the club and shove her against the brick wall, next to the dumpsters. Her heel caught and she fell back. She stood up slowly, wincing. She smoothed her dress and pushed strands of her hair away from her face.

"What were you doing snooping around?"

"I wasn't snooping around. I was looking for a pen and paper for a client."

"You little whore! Do you think I don't know what snooping around looks like? Last chance!"

"I told you, you dim asshole, I was looking for a pen and paper for a client."

"Wrong answer," the man replied pulling a gun from his waist band. "You know if you want to snoop around, you should probably, I don't know, learn to lie better than this."

Killian watched in horror as the man lined Emma for a shot.

"Anything you wish to say before you meet your maker? Pretty girl like you must have a lot to confess."

He was now within earshot of the conversation as he advanced slowly gun drawn on the man. He was never more thankful for his navy training than he was in moments like this one.

"Confess? Well I confess that I hate these boots and that my dress is ridiculously uncomfortable. But you have a loyal clientele of perverts, so I didn't really have a choice in the matter," she started as she took a step towards the man. "I confess that all the men inside are pigs. You can slap as much lipstick on a pig as you wish, it still won't turn into a duck, because deep down, it's still a pig," she paused for a quick moment and took another step forward. The man looked at her amused. "You know what else? I know about your little drug operation and how it comes into your fine establishment and how you use the club as a front to distribute the merchandise."

"Do you now, tough girl? Let's see how much you know once I've put a bullet in that pretty head of yours."

Quickly, she tugged at her boot and pulled the small knife she carried with her. She was quick, hitting his thigh. "You fucking bitch!" he screamed at her. His movements became erratic, she saw Killian run towards her.

She felt his strong hands pushing her out of the way as shots rang in the night. There was a loud thud as he hit the ground. She fell to her knees next to him.

No, no, no, she kept telling herself. This could not be happening.

The man who had been threatening her life had collapsed to the ground injured as the same time Killian did. Ruby came running out of the backdoor of the club. She froze for a moment before rushing to the man who lay on the ground. She kicked the gun far away from him with her high heel. "He's still alive," she said before turning her attention to Emma and Killian. "Is he okay?"

"No, Ruby. He's not okay. He's been shot too," Emma replied. Panic seized her, her hands searching for the bullet hole. She could hear the sirens. "Did you call the cops?"

"No, he did before he came out in the alley," Ruby replied getting on her knees next to Emma. "He wants us to turn in all the evidence."

"Killian?" she saw Ruby shaking the man next to her. "Killian!"

"Where was he hit? I don't see it."

"Right here, shoulder," Ruby replied. "It's clean," Emma saw her feel the back of the shoulder. "The bullet went out the other side."

"Ow!" he finally moved. "Are you okay?" he opened his eyes and looked at Emma.

"You're the one who has been shot."

"Help me up."

"We need to get you to the hospital to make sure this isn't worst than it looks."

He sat up and clutched his arm against his body. "This thing burns like hell. Why did you go in the office? That was a reckless move." He was angry with her. Better angry and trying to control his voice so that he would not yell at her than lying dead in a pool of his own blood because he took a bullet for her.

"Because the door was open," she replied not conceding an inch.

She was being flippant and defensive. He rolled his eyes at her. "Good call, Swan."

Both Emma and Ruby helped him to his feet. "Ruby, you take him to the hospital," she said as she saw cops pulling in the back alley. "I'll stay here and fill them in on what happened. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She looked at him. "Your head is bleeding," she touched his hairline. "You'll probably need a CT scan for your head injury."

"I think I'm one head injury away from my brain being scrambled," he replied with a hint of humor. "Has David gotten back from following that dealer?"

"He texted me that he's on his way back," Ruby replied. "He'll stay with Emma for this. Let's get you to the hospital. Victor will patch you up."

"Mr. Jones," a detective he had worked with before who had just arrived on the scene spoke to him, "make sure you stay in town. We will need your statement on what happened. You should know that all of this here, what happened tonight was reckless. You will probably get sanctioned by the department and have your license revoked for this kind of work for a few months. The operation was nearly shut to hell because of your team."

Killian nodded at him before Ruby walked him to her car.

This whole operation had been a complete nightmare. The logistics and the set up…Emma and Ruby's lives had been endangered. The license being revoked was a very small price to pay for what had happened here tonight, he thought. He was okay with chasing cheating spouses and tracking missing millions for a few months.

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White chair, white dresser…white furniture, walls that were pale violet, the color of lilacs. A nice and spacious bedroom in a nice spacious house.

The night had fallen on the city a while ago and the lamp on the night stand was on, a soft glow emanating from it.

A small hand opened the lid of the jewelry box and music filled the air around. The ballerina twirled to the sound. The child sat cross-legged on the bed and flipped through the pages of one of the fairy tale books in the small library before shutting it. Princes saving princesses, true love's kiss, happily ever after, but none of the books owned mentioned a single thing about parents finding their long lost children or children finding their long lost parents.

This was not to be when those who were supposed to love you and take care of you died long ago.

Life was not a fairy tale. It was not _Tangled_ where a long lost princess was brought home to her parents. The lid of the jewelry box was closed with a bang and the music stopped. The bedroom became quiet except for the traffic right outside the window.

Eyes closed, mind wandering to what might have been, trying to picture their faces as done every night before falling asleep. And then resigned that none of those dreams shall come to pass.

Just a child who was no one's child. A child who belonged to no one. A child who did not get to run into the loving arms of people called mom and dad.

"Lights out," Mrs. Black peaked her head in. "It is way past your bedtime."

Repressing an eye roll and some snide retort, the child moved on the bed and turned off the light.

Orphans had no fairy Godmothers. Mrs. Black was certainly not one.

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_**I was going to take out the whole shooting because the story changed a little bit, then I saw some of the reviews and decided to leave it in but changed the outcome of that. I'm also clearly not very good at writing action scenes, but yay, I got through it!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**I don't own the characters. Also, I believe this might be the last chapter for a bit given that the Holidays are right around the corner. Seriously, it was June like yesterday. Going home usually means I don't have a moment to myself. I hope you enjoy the next part. And yes, I believe Killian is totally romantic, so probably laying on thick but I don't think many will complain. Anyway, Happy Holidays to those who celebrate and happy vacation for those who don't.**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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Killian stared at his phone for a moment. There were no missed calls. From what David had told Ruby, Emma had taken off some thirty minutes before after giving her statement to the police looking upset. She had not wanted to speak to him about it. She wanted to be alone.

"You're good to go," the doctor entered the exam room. He had had x-rays, a CT scan, stitches and a shot to boot and now his left arm was in a sling, his shoulder still burning like someone had ran a hot poker through it. What he wanted to do right now was find a bed and be dead to the world. He was exhausted. He was emotionally drained and his body ached.

"I'll drive you back to the Carlyle."

"No, I'll take a cab. There's somewhere I need to be."

"Emma?"

No, he thought, I just need to clear my head. He did not answer her question. That was after all his business and his business alone. "Thanks for everything tonight, Ruby. You're a good friend."

"You would have done the same for any of us," she replied. "Also, don't mind if I don't come in for the rest of the week, I think I deserve a break after what happened tonight."

"Enjoy your time off then," he smiled at her before walking down the hallway. He did not think he would be back here so soon after the hellish morning he had spent two floors above with his father.

The cab ride was quiet. He looked out his window. One of the things he disliked about any city was that the lights were ever so strong, so much so they did not allow the stars their rightful place, to shine the way they ought to. It was one of those things he missed tremendously. When he was on active duty, one of the things he did every night whenever he was done with his chores, training and whatnot was go on deck and stand there. He had picked the most brilliant star in the heavens, and gazed at it until he had to head below deck. His thoughts would always drift to Emma. He wondered what she was doing, how she was doing, if she missed him as much as he missed her. Her compass was always under his pillow where he could reach it and trace the outline of the swan and her initials. Two years spent on the endless sea though beautiful it was had been lonely. He had friends, some he was even still in touch with but it was not the same.

Once he was at his destination, he paid the cab driver and got out. He walked up the small hill and then down the other side to the park he and Emma used to hang out when they were mere children, the same park he had found her when he had come back from Boston after his unfruitful search for her. This place was a part of him. When he was lost in his thoughts, trying to make sense of things, when he was lost, upset or confused, he always ended up here.

And by the looks of it, tonight was another night where he and Emma ended up in the same place. He stopped walking and stared at her. She looked up at him and did what she always did. She straddled the swing she had been sitting on, her back was now resting against the thick chain and he resumed his walk towards her straddled the swing just as she had, his own back resting against the chain behind him, facing her. They did not speak for a moment. They just stared at each other.

"You got changed," he said as a way to break the ice.

"Yeah, well on top of being uncomfortable, the dress was smeared with some of your blood." And then without further preamble, "you took a bullet for me." Her voice was shaking.

"I would die before I let anything happen to you."

He never had to tell her that. She looked in his eyes and they were as dark as the night sky and staring right back at her in that way that always made her heart race, in that way that made her feel breathless because he did not hide his feelings or his love for her. She always knew he would lay down his life for her. That much was always true. And she would do the same thing for him. She would die before she let anything happen to him because she would die if something terrible happened to him.

But knowing and seeing were two very different things. Seeing him and hearing him hit the ground in that heavy thud kept replaying in her mind. He could have been killed. And for what? Her? She did not deserve his sacrifice after lying to him. There were moments she did not feel worthy of him, but he was here looking at her like she was still the most important thing in his world and she could not stand it. She wanted him to be angry with her and yell at her. She wanted him to fight with her over her deception and over eight months of hard work that nearly went up in smoke because of her.

But he was sitting on the swing, facing her, his feet planted in the sand and his legs moving slightly, swaying them, his head and his back resting against the chain that held everything together, looking at her with soft eyes.

"Why aren't you angry with me? I lied for years and I screwed up big time tonight. I almost blew Ruby's cover and I got you shot. Why aren't you angry with me?"

"I am angry with you for the decision you made regarding work. You were reckless and no matter how good you are at what you do, and believe me, you are amazing, you could have gotten yourself killed," he sighed. He felt his chest tighten. She had dealt with people pointing their guns at her aplenty. The reason he did not worry so much about her was because he knew she could handle herself, talk herself out of sticky situations and defend herself if it came down to it. Emma chased down criminals for a living, she knew how they thought, she knew what they were capable of and she knew how to take care of them and herself. But her emotions had gotten the best of her.

"The reason I came down for surveillance was because I knew you were highly emotional and when you are, you don't control your actions," he said. "As for the lie, I may not like it, but I understand it."

She shook her head. "Maybe I don't want you to be understanding. I have been angry with you plenty times."

"And so have I, but screaming about it will not solve anything. Why are you being confrontational?"

"And why aren't you?" she wanted to ask him. "How did you find me?"

"I was not looking for you. I came here to clear my head. Everything else is a coincidence," he replied adjusting his collar in an effort to block the cool breeze of the night.

"I'm sorry. I blew the whole thing."

"It's fine. It was stupid of me to undertake something as complex as that drug operation. We're five people and we were spread too thin to begin with. If it's anyone's fault, it's my own."

"I'm sorry just the same. Does it hurt?" she asked him pointing at his left arm in the sling.

"Only when I laugh," he replied with a smile. He could feel the ice between them starting to thaw a little as she gave him a rueful look.

They stared at each other and he leaned back against the swing chain as it moved slightly, reminding him of the sway of a ship. He watched her as she inhaled deeply and then exhaled through her lips.

"His name was Neal. Neal Cassidy," she started. "He is doing twenty to life in San Francisco for armed robbery."

"I see this is really difficult for you, Emma. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything."

"There are so many things I have wanted to tell you for so long. I want to tell you this. It's long past due that you knew. I'm not proud of myself."

"We have all done things we are not proud of," he shrugged. There was much he too was not proud of, like having an affair with his father's girlfriend for instance.

So he smiled at her encouragingly and took her gloved hand in his and kept it there. "Then tell me," he whispered.

"I left New York the day after you did. I was heading out to Portland. I figured it was as far as I could get from the city with my limited resources and away from missing you," she began.

She had met Neal two days after she had arrived in the new town as she was trying to steal a car that the man had been in the process of stealing for himself.

"The bug?"

"Yup, the bug! Anyway, this guy was in the back and I thought the car belonged to him and I panicked, but then he was nice and friendly, said he would not report me to the cops. But then we really got pulled over by cops and I realized the car did not belong to him."

It had been a whirlwind after that. They had stuck together. She was alone and so was he. She thought he could be the family she did not have, that he could perhaps replace the person she had been missing so much and if he did not then he could help her forget. He said he wanted the same things she did. A home.

"We stole our food, we did not pay for our gas. We used motel rooms to shower when the occupants were gone but we mostly lived out of the car. I lived like that for about seven, eight weeks give or take."

"And then what happened?"

"We decided to go to Tallahassee to try and make a go of it there. You know, fresh start and all," her eyes drifted up to his face. It was stoic. If he was hurting over what she was telling him, he was not showing it. "But then one day he saw a wanted poster with his mug plastered on it because he had stolen watches that were worth a lot of money."

Those watches had been hidden in a locker at the train station. She had offered to go get them so that they may be able to fence them and then start anew, no more stealing to survive. They could get an apartment, find jobs, be regular people.

"He called the cops on me," tears sprung to her eyes. "He sold me out and I was carted off to Phoenix because that's where the crime was committed. It wasn't even about what I had done, but about what he had done. I got eleven months for my troubles."

She could now feel the tension coming off him in waves. He was clenching his jaw right this moment as he always did when he was trying to suppress his anger. Except that he looked less angry and more furious as she told him what had happened. She squeezed his hand in hers.

"Is that when you found out you were pregnant?"

"I was in jail for about two weeks when I realized there was something off. I was throwing up constantly and then I realized my time of the month had not come in a while. I never really kept track of it because I wasn't sexually active until you, plus the moment I became, I always used protection whether it was you or Neal."

She might have been generally irresponsible, but not with sex. She used protection as she was supposed to. Killian had been equipped. He told her they regularly distributed protection in the school he went to. Neal had stolen what they had.

"Condoms are like 96% effective," he shrugged.

"I guess," she replied. She had found out she was pregnant, she was in jail and had never felt so alone. "I put your name down as the father because I was hoping it would be yours. I had no way of really knowing, the dates were all too close to pin point exactly, but I was hoping it would yours. Then I saw him and what he looked like and there's just no way that he can be. He looks nothing like you and I don't see anything of me in him. I guess he looks like Neal when he was that age or something."

She wiped her tears away. "When I found out I was pregnant, the only thing that got me through my days was hoping and then believing it was yours. Neal was a non factor. All I knew was that I wanted him far away from my baby."

"Then why go to Tallahassee after you were released from jail?"

She sighed. "Because you were still at sea and I thought he might still give me what I needed, but honestly, I think I was just being a masochist. I've always been a sucker for punishment, denying myself the things I wanted just because they were not meant for me. I never believed I was meant to be happy and even less after the baby was born."

He shook his head at that. "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but why did you give the baby up for adoption?"

"Because of your father."

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I saw him twice while I was in Phoenix. The first time, I was outside in the courtyard when I saw him get in the car and drive away. The second time, he actually sat and spoke to me. He asked me if you were the father. I told him you weren't because I knew there was no chance in hell he would leave me alone if I said it was yours. But then he just went on about how regardless of that, I should give my child its best chance and how there were families that could not have children and would adopt an infant and he was right. There were families who wanted the baby before it was even born. He was wanted, you know. I may never have been wanted but he was."

"After he was born, the doctor asked me if I wanted to hold him, he said I could change my mind, but I didn't want to because if I had, I would never have been able to let go."

The wind picked up and she shivered. "I was a child who was no one's child and I'm a mother who is no one's mother. I wanted better for him. Living in the streets on my own was one thing. Doing it with an infant, moving from shelter to shelter, living out of a car and trying to figure things out was a whole other matter. Your father only drove those points home. He put this fear in me that I would fail my son and I was scared of that, I did not want that. I always thought that when I had a baby, I'd be settled. I'd have a home and someone who loved me by my side, not that I'd be seventeen and in a jail cell."

He could not believe his father. That man was truly the devil, trying to control everything and everyone including an impressionable pregnant and terrified seventeen year old.

"I am sorry for what you have been through. I am sorry that my father has done this to you and I am especially sorry for not being there for you when you needed me the most."

"He was right," she replied.

"No, he was wrong. You would have figured out how to make it work, Emma."

"How would you know?"

"Because you're you. I have never seen you fail at anything, Emma. The moment you put your mind to something, you're unstoppable. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was scared of the way you would look at me. The way you looked at me this morning. I have been hurting over this for a long time, but that woman who came to us looking for assistance to track down the baby she had given up for adoption, she opened up all these old wounds. Before, I could pretend I could live with myself and then I couldn't," she told him averting his gaze. "Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you feel sucks. I'd rather feel nothing than feel like this and I was numb for so long."

He felt terrible, as though someone had taken an knife to his heart. He could not believe the things she was telling him. He had failed her miserably.

"That child was the most important thing in the world to me. I carried it for nine months and then I had to let go. It broke me."

"Are you certain the child is not mine? I mean you're basing this off the way he looks. We could go to the family that adopted him, get a court order, request a DNA test, try and arrange visitations. No, we wouldn't take him back and uproot him from the only parents he's ever known, but we could be part of his life, just other people who love him as much as his adoptive family does. Anything is possible if you have the nerve to do it and I know you don't lack in that department."

She was shaking her head. Of course she would be shaking her head. "I don't know about this. Don't you hate him?"

"Why would I hate him? He's your son. I could never hate a child, let alone one that is your flesh and blood."

Is this what she was so worried about? That he would not accept her child in his life? How could she be so far off the mark?

"Why didn't you tell me about the pregnancy test?"

"How did you know about it?"

"I dropped the toothpaste next to the trash can. Saw it in there," he replied.

"Because it was negative and I didn't want you to be disappointed. I know how much you want this."

It was his turn to shake his head. "Yes, it's important to me, but things happen in their own time. I want you to be able to trust my reactions enough to tell me these things and how you feel, Emma. Sure, I was disappointed when I stumbled upon it, but I got over it. We have never really talked about it other than mentioning it in passing as my wishful thinking and we're not actively trying and if and when it happens, we'll be ready for it. I guess what I'm trying to say is we are a couple and if we're going to overcome the odds, then you have to trust to me."

"I don't deserve you."

"Why would you ever say something like that?"

"Because it's the truth.

"Then I don't deserve you either. You are kind and loving. You are braver than you believe and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think. I would take a thousand bullets for you. I would go to the end of the world for you. Underneath all of this," he pointed at himself, "you have always managed to see past everything and just see me as well as I see you and I wouldn't trade that for anything. If you want to be in our son's life, all you have to do is say so and you'll have my support."

"You called him our son," she sniffled.

"Well there's that whole thing about how what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine. I figure if he's your son, then he's mine too."

"God, Killian, where did you come from and what are you doing in my life?"

"Before you praise me, you should know that I have Philip the hacker I use for some of our cases working on yours. I asked him to pull everything he can find on you from your teenage years onward."

"I see," she said. "And why is that?" She was starting to feel defensive.

"Because something smells rotten, especially since I found out my father knew about this and now you're telling me that he visited you. I think you're too emotionally invested in this to see straight and I just don't want you to be hurt."

She nodded. "Am I everything to you?"

"My whole life. I loved you even before I knew what love was. And if that's even possible, I love you even more with every day that passes."

"Where are you staying tonight?"

"I'd like to come home," he replied. "I want to come home so that _you_ can take care of me. I did take a bullet for you today after all."

She rolled her eyes and stood. He did the same.

"I think I'm the luckiest woman on earth."

He laughed. "Of course you are. You get to wake up next to this every morning."

"You are such an idiot!"

"And yet, after all these years, here we are! Not just friends and partners, but married. Doesn't say much about you, Swan."

"I love you."

He smiled down at her. He always knew that. It just took some people longer to admit the way they felt even when they knew. But he would never tire of hearing her speak those three words to him.


	13. Chapter 13

_**So I clearly lied about Ch 11 likely being the last one I posted before the Holidays. This one is short. Hope it's to everyone's liking.**_

_**As always thank you for the reviews and the follows. I don't own the characters. Enjoy the show tonight!**_

_**Cheers :)**_

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Oddly enough, he enjoyed staying home with just a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and barefoot. He enjoyed sitting on the floor with his back against the couch or lying on top of it. The outcome of being shot was not a bad one. His arm was still in a sling and still hurt, but he enjoyed the reprieve it had afforded him. No need to worry about work, no going to Chinatown at some ungodly hour for some ridiculous piece of technology that he believed existed only in movies.

He opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the daylight. On top of being off work, he had become completely and absolutely lazy. It was 9:30 in the morning from what the clock was indicating. His eyes flitted to Emma quickly. She was awake, propped on her pillow, book in hand.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"You need your rest," she replied. "It's not just the shoulder, Killian. It's also the fact that you have had two concussions in less than a year. You need to take it easy."

"I'm not some China doll."

"I know that, but humor me."

"Well, when you put it that way. Any plans today?" he asked her as he sat up and rubbed his eyes before throwing the blanket over to the other side and getting out of bed.

"Not really. Do you want to take a trip with me to Queens?"

He peeked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth and looked at her thoughtfully as he brushed his teeth with some vigor. "Would you like me to join you?"

"I am done running from this, Killian. I thought I made myself clear on that subject."

He turned his back and went back into the bathroom. She heard the water in the shower running, so she got up and stood under the door frame, leaning on it. She watched as he grabbed a towel from the linen closet and set it on the shower door before he stepped in.

She put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it. She could see him shampooing his hair through the fogged door and she bit her lip. She had helped him the first couple of days with his shower. He was not allowed to wet his stitches and he could barely lift his arm at first. She saw him wince.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Almost done!"

"There's something off with this, with the file," she said. "I always felt there was something weird and you're right, maybe I am too emotionally invested."

He turned off the water and grabbed his towel. "Did you just say I'm right?" he smirked at her as he came out of the shower. "If you keep saying it, I _will_ end up believing it, you know, then I will never _ever _let you live it down."

How could he be joking about this? "Be serious for a second."

"Coffee?"

"For the millionth time, you're not supposed to have coffee with your prescription! Have tea, you're half British. Tea with a splash of milk and a squeeze of lemon. You wanted me to take care of you, remember? So that's what I'm doing."

"I'm starting to regret it," he replied shaking his head in horror at the thought of tea. He had had his fill of tea with a splash of milk and a squeeze of lemon while he was living in London. "Why are you trying to punish me so, Swan? No coffee, no sex…you're taking away the simple pleasures of life. You can just get on top and it will be minimal effort on my part."

"We both know what your minimal effort is. So again, no! You are worst than a five year old, you know that?" She suppressed a giggle when he pulled her against his chest and bit down on her earlobe. "Well that's not fair," she pouted.

"Now you know how I feel," he smiled at her before he released her. "When would you like to head out?" he asked.

"In an hour or so? His father usually takes him to the park around one. I figure between here and there and traffic being what it is. It usually takes me close to an hour and half to get there." She busied herself around the kitchen and he sat on the bar stool by the island. "Maybe we can stop somewhere and have a quick lunch. There are some nice Greek restaurants in that area. There's a Turkish one that makes a kebab to die for!"

"Your choice, love," he laughed at her enthusiasm over food. "I should probably head to the brownstone after we get back," he started. "I need to have a conversation with my father about butting into business that in no way concerns him."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked him.

"He traveled to Arizona twice and he sat down with you and played the concern card even though he dislikes you. He preyed on your insecurities and your love for your baby, so yes, I want to do this. Maybe he'll have another heart attack and we will be rid of him once and for all."

"He would probably come back to haunt us of spite."

Killian sighed. "That sounds very much on par for him," he said as he took a sip of his tea. "God this is so gross," he grimaced. He had one more week of pills to go. "This will be the death of me."

"You're such a drama queen!"

"Says the person who cannot live without cinnamon on her coco. I'll remember _not_ to pick up any next time you run out."

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The drive through traffic was miserable. Driving anywhere in Manhattan or the boroughs was akin of a nightmare. Sometimes he felt he was back in Cairo or Paris with all the honking, cursing and swearing. Of course she had insisted on taking her car instead of his. His was a shiny toy, a nice sports car, hers was the old yellow Volkswagen, slightly battered but in otherwise good condition. He hated this car now that he knew the story behind it and how trying to steal it had likely changed the course of her life forever.

He mentioned in passing that it was time to get her a new car. She had looked at him and replied that she took the subway most of the time and did not need them to spend money on something she barely needed. He had decided not to bring it up again worried it might end in an argument or a fight. And with her being too stubborn to listen and the ban on sex (which he was fairly certain included makeup sex), he knew he would be on the losing end of this one. He should be used to it by now though. He was usually the one on the losing end of any argument they had. He caved most of the time.

"Is this it?" he asked her when the car pulled to a stop after they had had lunch.

She nodded. "I guess they put up the skating rink. That's him over there with the blue Rangers hockey jersey." He was easy to pick from the crowd. No child seemed to be wearing the same team jersey.

Killian looked at the boy for what seemed to be forever. "Come," he finally said. "Let's get out of the car and get closer. Which one is the father?"

"That one," she pointed at a man with dark hair.

"Alright," he looked at her. She was nervous and fidgety. "We will not speak to the child. You can stand near the board and watch the boys play their hockey game and I will strike up a casual conversation with the father."

"Alright," she exited the car and he did the same. They walked together and then split up. She went closer to the board and stood there watching as the boys fought for the puck while Killian stood near the man Emma had pointed out to him. He slipped his right hand in his pocket and observed the game. "Well that was a nice goal," he commented genuinely impressed. "I'm pretty sure I saw a goal like that on ESPN this morning."

The man next to him smiled. "Some of these boys are very talented. They always play here before the Winter League starts."

"Which one is yours?"

"That would be the one with the Messier jersey."

"A bit young to know Messier, isn't he?"

The man laughed. "Everyone in New York knows who he is. You're clearly British and you know who he is."

"I stand corrected. My wife," Killian pointed at Emma, "and I are expecting our first one and she has been insisting on coming here. She is convinced it's a boy and she is terrified by that."

"Boys are easy enough."

"Tell me about it! I'm Jake Ramsay by the way," he pulled his hand out of pocket and presented it to the man to shake.

"Eric Thompson," the man replied shaking Killian's hand. "So first one then?"

"Hopefully the first of many," Killian smiled looking at the boy. "He loves hockey then?"

"He loves sports in general. He plays hockey in the winter and soccer in the summer. Anything that takes him away from his X-Box is good thing."

"I'm sure," Killian smiled. "What's his name?"

"Adam. He just turned twelve. I remember the day he was born as if it was yesterday. Having children is a great adventure."

Killian looked at the man. "Indeed. A great albeit terrifying adventure."

"Maybe, but then, you get to hold them for the first time. My wife was a troubled teenager and then we had him and she turned a corner. She was never the same after he was born."

"Children must have that effect on you," Killian replied.

The man who was refereeing the game whistled and the boys left the ice. Eric headed to his son and Killian walked to Emma. They both stared at the boy for a moment before Killian went up to the father once more. "It was nice meeting you, Eric. You must be proud to have a strapping young lad like this one," he looked down at the boy as Emma came and slipped her hand in his, her eyes not wavering from the child's face.

"You'll be proud once yours comes along too," the man genuinely smiled at him as he shook his hand again.

"Let's go, darling, we can't linger further on the account of that appointment I have." He tugged her towards the car gently. Once inside, he looked at her. "The father is Eric Thompson," he said. "The boy's name is Adam."

"Maybe he lied," she replied, her hands clutching the steering wheel. That was not the information she had read in the file that had been given to her.

"Emma, I think you know deep down in your heart of hearts that this is a dead end. Whatever that P.I gave you is complete fabrication and rubbish. The boy is the spitting image of his father, down to that dimpled chin of his. That kid, he's not yours."

He sighed. "Emma, look at me," he asked her and she did. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Let's wait for Philip to get back to us. If this boy turns up again in his investigation, then we'll hire a lawyer and do what we need to do so that we can be part of his life."

"But you don't think he is."

"No, I don't think he is and neither do you. I know you, Emma. This is not the face of someone who believes this child is hers."

She shook her head. "I always thought I would recognize my kid if I ever laid my eyes on him, you know."

She started the car and pulled out of the small parking lot. It took them less time to make it back to the city. She parked a block away from the brownstone. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked him.

"God no! One person getting chewed out is more than enough," he said. "You should go home and rest. You look exhausted." And she did. He assumed what transpired earlier had taken its toll on her. And why wouldn't it? She had high hopes and was lied to.

"Thanks!" she retorted sarcastically. "Don't let him get to you."

He leaned over and brushed her lips with a quick kiss. "I won't. Let me know when you get in."

"I'll drop you a quick text."

He left the car and she pulled away. He walked towards his father's house. Deep breaths, deep breaths, he kept telling himself. He had called Darlene earlier in the day and she had confirmed that he had left the hospital the day before. Once he got to the brownstone, he stopped in front of it. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled his old key out. Before he could move, music filled the air around him. It left him a little stunned. No one in the house played the piano. He was certain he was the last one to stroke those keys.

"Moonlight Sonata," he muttered between his lips as he finally made his way up the stairs. He slipped his key in the keyhole and fiddled with the doorknob for a few seconds before the door opened. At least his father had not changed the locks. Surprising, he thought, paranoid that he was. He walked inside the house and towards the living room where the piano had always been.

He stood there and watched in awe a child's slender fingers running on the keys. Even at his best, he was never as good as this. He wanted to play the guitar which he father abhorred. It was too pedestrian for a Jones and so he had learned how to play when he was at sea.

He looked at the child, tongue darting out in concentration, auburn hair that veered towards brown falling loosely down her back and fair skin. The music suddenly stopped. Sensing his presence, she turned and peered at him from under her eyelashes.

His brow creased as they stared at each other. "Who are you?" he finally asked her. He realized he sounded rude and regretted that when she raised a disapproving eyebrow at him.

This cursed house made him do things, he tried to come up with an excuse for himself. She was just a kid.

"My name is Cordelia," she replied before turning back to the piano not bothering with him anymore. She resumed the piece she had been playing and he stood there watching her.


	14. Chapter 14

**_This is for real now. Last chapter before the Holidays. I found time to write this, so here goes nothing! I hope this isn't too confusing. If it is, let me know and I'll make sure to either answer the confusion or include it as part of a chapter._**

**_Cheers :)_**

**_._**

_._

_._

_Twelve Years Ago_

_Richard Jones looked at the man standing in his office. "The DNA test is back?"_

_"__It is," the man replied._

_"__And?"_

_"__Congratulations, Sir, you are going to be a Grandfather in five months, give or take."_

_"__Boy or girl?"_

_"__A girl, Sir," the man replied._

_Richard Jones stood from behind his desk. "Thank you for making the trip. I trust you know what it is you're supposed to do?"_

_"__Indeed!"_

_The man left and Richard Jones sat back at his desk in his now empty office, his resolve renewed._

.

.

_Present Day_

The music stopped and Cordelia looked up again to see the man was still standing there, staring at her.

His eyes ran up and down her form, taking her school uniform. Our Lady of Mercy, the all girls' school, he remembered. It was across the street from Holy Cross where he and Liam and even Mary Margaret had gone.

"Do you live here or something?" she questioned him without making eye contact. She picked up her school bag and rummaged through it. She pulled a book out and flipped through the pages, choosing a partition. She set it up and looked at the notes.

"Or something," he shrugged. "I lived here a long time ago," he explained. "May I?" he asked her pointing at the long bench she was sitting on. She raised her shoulders in a dismissive manner. "It's your house," she said.

"So your name is Cordelia?"

"Cordelia Donovan."

"And your name means daughter of the sea, correct?"

She finally looked at him. "Sure. That or Cordelia from Shakespeare, you know King Lear's youngest daughter, the one who was hanged. I hate Shakespeare so much!"

He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure he was responsible for half of my bad marks in English."

"And who was responsible for the other half?" she asked him with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow at her. Was he being sassed by some tween he had just met? She could be no more than thirteen years old. Her big blue eyes, freckled nose and dimples made her look like the sweetest thing. "How old are you?"

"Twelve. Do you play?"

"I haven't in a very long time. What are you doing here?"

"Playing the piano," she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, music?" she added for good measure. "I'd like to go to Julliard someday. It's a school for arts, music, prestigious…"

He rolled his eyes. "I know bloody well what Julliard is, thank you for the information. Are you here alone?"

"You know, I'm not supposed to speak to strangers."

"Not a stranger, just someone who used to live here."

"Right!" Her eyes refused to meet his and he could tell she was somewhat uncomfortable with him sitting next to her. He stood from the bench and took a few steps back. "What happened to your arm?"

"Oh, this?" he looked at his sling. "I was shot a few days ago."

"Really?" she suddenly sounded less bored with him. "Does it hurt?" she finally turned towards him and he could see her whole face. She gave him a small shy smile that made his chest constrict painfully.

"Actually, it hurts like bloody Hell, but it's getting much better," he replied.

"So who are the people in this picture? I have sort of been wondering about it since I sat here the first time."

"Well," he picked up the framed picture. "This one is me, I'm not sure how old I was, but handsome little lad, don't you think?" she rolled her eyes at him. "And this one? Your brother?"

He nodded. "And the woman is my mother."

"It's a very nice picture," she commented contemplating it. "Where are they? Do they live here?"

"No, they died a very long time ago."

"My parents died too," her voice was even and vulnerable. "They died when I was a baby. I don't know what they look like because I have no pictures of them. Mr. Jones, he's my benefactor. Mrs. Black told me he has been ever since my parents died."

He was surprised to hear that his father was bankrolling some child when he had categorically refused to foster Emma when she was barely five years old. "I'm very sorry to hear about your parents," he said at last. "My wife, Emma, she's an orphan too. She also never got to meet her parents. I know it's hard for her sometimes still."

The conversation was getting entirely too heavy. "So you have met my father then?"

"No, I have sort of seen him only once."

"That's because he comes out only at night, like a vampire or a ghoul."

"That's not very nice," she told him.

"Be careful around him, love. He's not the nicest man."

"I thought I heard your voice," they were interrupted. "Did you let yourself in?"

Killian looked at Darlene and smiled at her. "Old key," he replied planting a kiss on her cheek. "I heard music that was beautifully played so I decided to take a look before I visited Satan. In which lair is he? The den or the study?"

She bit her lip and gave him a reproving look. "Your father has a meeting to attend and will then be flying out of town. It was not a planned trip."

"How is he already back to work and flying?" Killian asked her. "People normally stay put after a heart attack and surgery."

Darlene raised her hands. "Don't look at me. It's his life."

"Just as well," he replied. "I was not overly enthusiastic having him tear me a new one over what I'm here for." He would do anything for Emma, but he would be a liar if he pretended he was not relieved that he would not have to see his father. He was expecting a confrontation, a lot of yelling and screaming.

"Anything I can help you with?"

He looked at her and hesitated. Darlene knew a lot of things. She had worked in this house for so long. But involving her was probably not a good idea. He doubted she could help with this anyway. "No, don't worry about it."

The doorbell rang and Darlene left to answer. He heard a voice he did not recognize as he turned his attention back to Cordelia who was now putting her things back in school bag. "I hope you make it to Julliard," he told her.

"Me too. My friends call me Delia or Leia by the way." The shy smile was back and her eyes were twinkling, illuminating her whole face. Killian bit his lip for a moment. "And I haven't introduced myself properly," he said. "My name is K…" he was abruptly interrupted as a severe looking woman erupted in the living room and grabbed the girl's arm forcefully.

"How many times have I told you not to speak to strangers?" she scolded the child.

"You're hurting me!"

"Let go of her! This is my father's home. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm her mother," she replied.

"No you're not! You just take care of me because you're paid to do it."

"Pick up your things, Cordelia, we're leaving now."

"You're not going anywhere with her."

The color drained completely from the woman's face. "I have been taking care of this child since the day she was born, Mr. Jones. I have treated her well. I have clothed her, fed her and put a roof over her head. She has never lacked for anything. You'll forgive me for being so blunt, but this is none of your business." She let go of the girl's arm. "I'm the one raising her."

Killian took one of his business cards out of his pocket and a pen and wrote on it. "Come here, love," he went to the furthest corner of the living room. He saw the girl looking over her shoulder at Mrs. Black as she took hesitant steps towards him. He knelt in front of her so that they were at eye level. "These are all the numbers you need to know. Mine and my wife's," he showed her the first two numbers on the back of the card. "You also have Ruby, David and Mary Margaret, they are good friends of ours. If you ever need anything, if you need to get out of that house and away from that woman…"

"Mrs. Black. Her name is Janice Black."

"If she does something to you, call one of us, I will let them know and one of us will come get you and we will figure something out. This," he pulled his cell phone out. "These are the people I'm talking about," he showed her pictures he had on his cell phone. "This is Emma. If you can't reach me, call her next and then the three others, okay?"

She nodded and took the card from him. "Killian Jones?" she asked him. Her voice started shaking and he smiled at her reassuringly. His hand rubbed her shoulder and then he was tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. She did not move or react. It was as though she was in a trance.

"Cordelia, let's go!" Mrs. Black's shrill voice came from behind him.

"You could come with me now," he said.

"No, it's okay. I'm supposed to have a sleep over at my friend's for the weekend and she's never done anything to me. It's the first time she grabs me like that."

"Remember what I said?"

"I will," she replied. "Thank you," she took the card from his hand. She wanted to hug him for caring about her, but she went back to her guardian instead. She threw her coat on and put her school bag over her shoulder. She gave Killian once last look. It was a tearful one this time, before she was pulled by the hand by Mrs. Black.

He looked at them from the large window, hidden by the curtains. He saw them stop near the hedge. There was a discussion between them that seemed to be a heated one. Cordelia put her hand in her pocket and retrieved the card he had given her, handing it over to the woman who tore it up before she let the pieces go. They both climbed in the car and drove away.

"What the hell was that about?" he turned around and looked at Darlene.

"I don't know. They started coming around about six months ago. She plays the piano while your father is usually in the den. Mrs. Black drops her off and picks her up. She never stays. I have never seen her behave this way."

"Keep an eye on them, Darlene, won't you?"

The woman nodded. "Cordelia is a very lovely girl. She's very sharp and I am inclined to believe she can take care of herself."

"Nonetheless," he retorted. "There's something about her, I can't really put my finger on it."

"I thought she looked like your mother the first time I saw her. Not so much anymore now. She's a beautiful and sweet girl."

"That she is."

He sat on the bench and hit a couple of keys on the piano. "She mentioned her parents had died. When she talked about it, she had that look in her eyes like Emma does. The look like she's been left alone."

The older woman sat next to him. "That look you had it in your eyes after your mother died," she said softly. "You have changed a lot, Killian."

"For the better I hope."

"You were always a good boy," Darlene smiled at him.

"Oh I don't know about that," he replied in a sheepish manner. "I gave you a hard time very often just because I could."

"You have always had a good heart."

"Thank you, Darlene. You have always been good to me. I should get going. Emma will think my father threw me in a dungeon or something."

"Are you happy? I mean with Emma?"

"She makes me insanely happy. I can't imagine my life without her."

"That's how it should be, sweetheart," she smiled at him, squeezing his hand in hers.

The return home went by quickly. In the elevator, he thought about Cordelia and her shocked face when her guardian had grabbed her by the arm. That reaction had been odd. It was not as though he was going to grab the girl and make a run for it. The woman had looked scared when she had laid eyes on him and that's when things had somewhat unraveled. He had not liked what he had seen in the least. She was a smart little girl, she would figure out a way to contact him. She had looked at the business card, rubbed her finger along his name, the name of the agency. The address was written on it. He hoped she paid enough attention to details to recall what she had read so that come and find him if there was anything amiss.

"Hey," the front door opened suddenly. "I heard the keys. How did it go?" she asked him.

"He is travelling," he replied shrugging off his jacket and putting his key in the plate by the door. Emma's compass was still on the key chain where she had put it after all those years. She had lost his a long time ago.

"Isn't it too early for him to be travelling?"

"Honestly, Swan, who cares? If he wants an embolism or an aneurysm or another heart attack, who am I to stop him? It's not like I'm his son anymore and that makes it his problem, not mine."

"Pizza is on the way," she wrapped her arms around his waist and he kissed the top of her head. "What's wrong, Killian? Something happen while you were there?"

"A girl was there, twelve years old. She was playing the piano. Very talented too," he told her as they both sat on the sofa. "Pretty little lass. She's an orphan, she has a guardian who apparently has a temper and my father is her benefactor as she put it."

He looked at Emma. "I guess she reminded me of you a little."

"How so?"

The pain in her eyes, he thought, the way she spoke of her parents, resigned that she would never see them again. The way she held herself, how she had a retort ready at the tip of her tongue. The way she had looked at him trying to assess him. The shy smile. "I don't know, I guess I just saw something that reminded me of something from long ago. Like a memory."

"What was her name?"

"Her name is Cordelia. I actually just realized my Grandmother was named Cordelia." She had died when he could barely stand on his own. He had never really spared her a second thought. He had not really known after all. "Her guardian, some Mrs. Black, she was a bit rough with her when she found her talking to me. The girl swears that it's the first time something like that happened, but I felt really uneasy letting her leave. I gave her all our numbers just in case anything happened, and that vile woman took the business card from her outside. She tore it up and let the pieces scatter to the wind."

"That doesn't sound healthy. I have been with my share of foster parents who were rough with me and broke my things out of anger. That kind of thing festers. Why do you think she would do something like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe she feels threatened," he replied. "Her reaction was pretty visceral if you ask me."

Emma sighed. Her heart went out to the girl. "You seem pretty, I don't know if overwhelmed is the correct word for this…"

"It's just an odd feeling I had when I saw her, like I knew her. Darlene said she thought she looked like my mother the first time she saw her, but not so much anymore. She's just familiar, I guess."

Someone knocked at the door. "Dinner is here," Emma got up and opened the door and Killian started pulling his wallet out. "Hmm, Killian, it's for you, actually."

"Can I come in?"

Emma opened the door wider and let Philip inside. He slipped his messenger bag off his shoulder. "Sorry to barge in like this, but this could not wait."

Killian showed him to the living room and Philip plopped down on the sofa and pulled a file out of his bag. "You must be Emma," he said.

She nodded. "And you're the man digging in my past?"

"Yes," he answered back. "Someone has messed around with everything regarding the bracket of time Killian gave me to investigate. Every time I went back to see the child you gave up for adoption, there was a new name, a new picture, a new story and then the trail goes dead regarding anything to do with adoption. I went back five times, and there are five different boys. This one," he showed her the first picture, "his name is Jason Kallum. Born April 12th, 2002. Mother's name Emma Swan, father's name Killian Jones, baby name left blank. This one is Mark Sullivan, born April 12th, 2002. Mother's name Emma Swan, father's name one Killian Jones. And it goes on and on. If I had kept going, I'm sure more names and more pictures would have turned up. One is in Arizona, one is in California, one is in Florida and one is in British Columbia, Canada. None of them were given up for adoption, they all live with their biological parents."

"Someone is messing with my information?" she asked him. "Oh my God, what does that mean?"

"It means they don't want you to find your son, Swan," Killian replied. "What else did you find?" His head was swimming. Next to him, Emma was shaking.

"I think someone was just waiting for you to start searching. I even wondered if I should keep looking into this because I got worried that I was sending a signal to whomever after I got in the files the third time, so I erased my trail and blocked anything that might be susceptible to sending a ping."

Philip took a deep breath. "The doctor who delivered your baby, Dr. Harold Jenkins, he got a sizable amount of money wire transferred from an offshore account. He got a million and half after the baby was born and transferred into whoever's care. Your prison records, they say you had a baby but the gender has been erased from them."

"Philip, can you pull a flight manifest if I get you the plane number? It would be a private jet," Killian asked him.

"Sure."

Killian got up and headed to the small office. He looked through some papers and found the one he was looking for and went back out. He handed the paper to Philip. "I think this is all the information you will need regarding the plane."

Philip pulled his lap top out and started typing away. "Flight manifest says the plane is headed to Arizona. It will be taking off in about two hours for Phoenix."

"Emma, love…" she looked almost catatonic. "How do you feel about visiting this Dr. Jenkins and that prison you were in for eleven months?"

"You think we should?"

"Go start preparing our bag, I'll contact the airlines and see if we can book a last minute trip on the account of a deceased parent."

"Do you think we'll find my son? Why would your father do that to me?" she asked. He had to be behind all of this.

"I don't know but we'll get to the bottom of this. We'll find the answers we're looking for, I promise."

"Thank you, Philip," she told the man.

He nodded at her and she disappeared into the bedroom. "Look, Killian, I don't know what's going on, but this is some serious crap you're dealing with. Your father is like the fucking mob or something. If he is really behind all of this, then that kid is really yours and he knows it and he must be hiding it somewhere. There's no other reason he would be doing this. He would not give a flying fuck if this were her kid and someone else's."

That was the conclusion Killian ha d also come up with. That boy had to be his. "Can you keep digging?"

"Yeah, of course. This is kind of fascinating," he remarked.

"I'm glad this clusterfuck is fascinating to you, Phil. Just keep me appraised. Can you also forward me the information on anything Phoenix, please?"

"We'll do," he replied leaving the penthouse.

Killian picked up the phone and dialed the airline.

.

.

.

Mrs. Black peeked inside Cordelia's room. She had cancelled the sleepover on the account that she had misbehaved. She had refused her dinner and had been hold-up in her room where she had heard her crying. If Mr. Jones ever found out what happened today, he would kill her with his bare hands that much she was certain of. He was cold and unfeeling and terrified her.

_"__I did nothing wrong. He used to live there," Cordelia had yelled. "You can't forbid me to go to Sarah's."_

_"__I just did, so move on, child!" she had retorted hotly. She was not used to her talking back to her. She had always been so docile, accepting of the things she was told and asked. "And forget about going back to Mr. Jones' again."_

_"__But the piano," the child had replied deflated. "I want to go to Julliard."_

_"__We have a piano here."_

_"__It's no good!" she screamed at her. "I never really liked you and now I just hate you!"_

_"__Go to your room, Cordelia. You can come out when you've calmed down." She watched her as she marched herself to her room and saw the door slam behind her. The walls shook. She had never yelled at her before. She had never grabbed her or been remotely violent with her, but she was panicked. Mrs. Black wanted to pick up her things and vanish. The shock she felt when she saw the younger Jones had made her knees weak. Her breathing had become labored and she thought she might collapse. It took everything in her not to do that. _

She closed the bedroom door and went into her own.

In the dark, Cordelia's eyes opened and she got out of her bed. She went into her school bag and rummaged through her pencil case and found what she had been looking for. Round and small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. The only thing she had from her parents.

An old compass with faded markings in the back of it. But she knew those markings and could still somewhat feel them under her finger as she ran it up and down, then across the compass. Initials like the ones belonging to the man she had met today. He had been kind to her, wanted to help her.

If only, she thought.

But her father was long dead and she had no hope to ever lay eyes on him or her mother. But the compass had the same engraved and now faded initials on the back of it, so she could just close her eyes and imagine that she had found one of two people she had missed her whole life.

"Your last name is Donovan," a little voice kept whispering in her mind. The compass must have belonged to her mother. She closed her eyes and conjured up the face of the man she had met earlier.

Dreaming had never hurt anyone.

.

.

**_FYI, I just really hate Henry, so he's not coming in this story._**


	15. Chapter 15

**_I hope everyone had nice Holidays and a nice break. Sorry it took so long to update, but I'm not even back to home base just yet._**

**_Anyway, for some shameless promoting now. I did write a One Shot (first one ever!) called Heart in Hand if you guys are interested in checking it out. It's a fill-in the blanks, sort of post 411ish write up, just because well 411 did not make me a happy camper. _**

**_Chapter 14 is sort of short and has a lot of flashbacks. If it's confusing, please let me know, I'll either insert further explanations in the next chapter or just a quick note to explain whatever away. I just wanted to say something super quick about Killian's father and how I 'm absolutely certain that the show's version will be completely different from mine. I think it will end up being that his father was forced to leave him and that he basically had to choose between his son dying or leaving him._**

**_As always, thank you for reading and following and favoriting and all of that. I like reading what you guys think, so please, leave a review, even if it's just to say "Hi!"_**

**_I don't own the characters, they are the property of the men who think I want CS to kiss for 40 minutes. Because we're clearly super shallow and don't care about anything else but that (disclaimer: yes, kissing is nice and I still get excited for anything CS, really, so don't jump all over me for saying that I want CS to actually, I don't know, TALK.). [/rant]_**

**_Cheers :)_**

_._

_._

_._

_Twelve years ago_

_"__There will be light, you'll see. We all have our dark moments, but there is always light. It can be just a flicker, so your job is to nurture that flicker and not let it go out. And someday, that flicker will grow stronger and brighter. It will stop wavering and sputtering. It will turn into a shining, radiant light and when you look back on all of this, all you have been through, the darkness and the sadness and the heartbreak, you might find it was worth it. Sometimes, the more difficult the road traveled is, the greater the reward. Take it from me."_

_Emma looked at the counselor sitting across the table from her. An older woman with kind eyes and a soft voice who had taken a special interest in Emma and her pregnancy or as the woman put it, her predicament. _

_As Emma kept her eyes trained on her, she had realized the more words were spewed about hope and light, the more difficult a time she was having sitting still in her chair, believing her. Her eyes were starting to glaze over like they did every time she lost interest in a conversation. People like Emma who had fallen so low had no hope. At least, Emma's hope had left her sometime ago. _

_She had often tried going back to her happy place. The park and the swing, sitting across from Killian, talking about everything or just sitting silently, contemplative. But in the last few months, her happy place seemed to be falling further and further away from her, away from her reach. It was as though the door had been closed and she was no longer welcome. Her happy place had been somewhere she had been allowed to be sweet, innocent and even naive. It was something Killian allowed her to be because he was an anchor of sorts and he refused to let her sink. But that Emma was dead and buried now. She had sunk and there was no going back._

_She had dropped her gaze away from the woman, focusing on the message someone had scratched on the wooden table. "Leave me the hell alone," it said. Emma understood all too well the sentiment. She too wanted to be left the hell alone._

_"__I'm not sure about that," she replied staring down at her GED scores. One thing prison afforded her was that she was able to at least finish her high school education. But she felt no thrill or satisfaction, only emptiness and sorrow. The reason she had done this was now gone._

_"__I know giving up your baby is difficult for you, Emma. You did what you felt was right, no one will ever blame you for it. And you should not blame yourself or feel ashamed for it. Your child was wanted. You made people who can't have a baby very happy. What you did was give someone a priceless gift, a forever gift."_

_Then why do I feel as though I ripped my own heart out she wondered. _

_"__You can build yourself a good life when you get out of here. You can start over and we will give you the tools to do so. You're getting a second chance at making better choices, improving your life, don't squander it."_

_She had nodded before she got up from her seat and was accompanied back to her cell by one of the female guards. She sat on her bunk. _

_She felt empty and alone. _

_Sad. _

_Lost._

_Just when she did not think her heart could break anymore than it already had, she found out she was wrong. Killian left because he had to finish what he had started, Neal had betrayed her trust, her baby…her baby she had given up. That one was on her and her alone._

_"__Can you make sure he gets something from me?" _

_From us, she thought, a memento that held a promise to her. A promise that had meant everything to her. _

_"__Something I hope his adoptive parents might let him keep?" she had asked the doctor who had delivered the baby. "His fa…my friend…he gave it to me a few months ago and he is deployed overseas right now and I'm not even sure if I'll ever see him again," she rambled. "I want my son to have it," she explained. _

_The compass was in her personal effects with everything else that had been confiscated from her which had not been much at all. The doctor had nodded and promised he would do as she asked. She had written and signed her consent and handed the piece of paper to him. "Thank you," she had smiled gratefully. The compass meant a lot to her. It was her most prized possession. _

_Killian would not be able to find her now, she thought before she chided herself for being so childish. No one found lost people with compasses. That happened in the movies that had happy endings and her life was so far from that. Her life was more akin of a tragedy._

Emma sighed and looked out of the motel room window. Hard as she tried, she did not want to be back in Arizona. She had had bad moments in her life and this place had ranked very high on the list.

"Are you okay?"

She turned her head and looked at Killian who was sitting on a chair, his legs propped on the desk in their hotel room, his laptop on his thighs. He pushed it away and ran a tired hand in his hair. "You look miles away."

"Remembering painful things."

He moved from his spot and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her and waited for her to speak.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I was freaked out. I was scared. Seventeen years old and in way over my head."

"I can't even begin to imagine…" he said. Those sincere blue eyes, the way he looked at her. She could hear what he was thinking even though he was not saying it. His eyes were searching her face.

She had been alone was the single thing his mind kept repeating to him over and over. It did nothing to assuage his guilt. If anything, it made everything so much worst, but this was not about him.

"When I had my blood tests to confirm that I was pregnant, they started giving me everything I needed to have a healthy baby. I was completely detached from the whole thing, in complete denial. I wasn't even sure if I would go through with the pregnancy."

"What convinced you to do it? I mean what convinced you to keep it?"

She shrugged. "Hearing the heart beat for the first time. It's not something you can really pretend you haven't heard after that. It became a part of me. And then it kicked for the first time and I did not feel so alone anymore. I poured everything I could in my schooling so that I could give him everything I could."

Then his father had come to her. Sick, twisted man that he was. "Your father showed up. He asked me if the baby was yours."

She remembered that conversation all too well.

_He had sat across from her in the warden's office, had looked upon her face with his cold blue eyes. His eyes were so unlike his son's. Killian's eyes were always warm and kind and there was always a glint of something in them. It was looking in those eyes that had made her aware that he was more than her best friend and companion, that he had always been so much more than that and how easily she could fall in love with him if she let herself._

_The warden's office was big and well furnished, and a man of Mr. Jones' stature was allowed any perk he desired after all. They had been served tea and coffee and cake. She had not seen a piece of cake in a while but had not touched it. She had morning sickness all day every day and her stomach was twisted in knots because of the anxiety she felt sitting there alone with him. He always seemed bigger than nature and he had always scared her. He was her boogeyman much as he was Killian's._

_"__Are you sure he's not my son's?" he had asked her._

_"__He is not your son's," she replied looking down at her hands._

_"__How will you take care of it?"_

_"__That is my concern and my concern alone, Mr. Jones."_

_"__An orphan girl of seventeen with barely a high school education, no family, no friends to speak of, a delinquent and a thief, you will wreck that child. You will destroy its life. It will not thank you for raising it. It will hate you and loathe you. Do you know what it feels like to have your child hate you so much that he has an affair with a woman you care for? Do you know what it's like for your child to hate you so much he would rather not breathe the same air as you? Do you know what it feels like when your child comes back to town and does not even care to stop to see his father? It guts you, Ms. Swan. It breaks your heart. My son has been breaking mine for years and years now. He has no care for me, no use for me. He would rather see me dead than spend more than a second in my presence."_

_"__You don't love him," she protested. "You hate him!"_

_He had chuckled and shook his head. "No, I don't hate my son contrary to popular belief. I love him. I never approved of his choices. I gave him everything I could and he threw it all back in my face so he had to learn some hard lessons. I tried to save him but he would not have it."_

_She had looked up from her hands and into his eyes. "Save him from what?"_

_"__Well from you, Ms. Swan," he replied as he stood and adjusted his jacket. "You see, Ms. Swan, I know your type and your type is poison to people like us. You latch onto us and you suck the life out of us. I wanted my son away from you. Now that you went and got yourself pregnant like the white trash I always knew you were, you have accomplished what I tried to accomplish myself."_

_He had looked down at her and smiled softly. She had not thought him capable of smiling. "You have lost him for good with your indiscretion. Killian will never forgive you for this. If and when he finds out you have had another man's child, it will break his heart and turn him away from you. For good this time. For that, I wish to thank you."_

_He had turned around to leave, but then stopped and gave her one last look. "Make no mistake about it, Killian will hate you and someday soon so will the child you are carrying. Then you will know what it feels like to have the only family left on this earth turn its back on you with no regret and never look back."_

_He had left her sitting there, completely shell shocked._

"Emma!" Killian whispered her name. "Why did you not tell me this before?" His heart was racing in his chest. Poison? Really? His father always had a way with words. There had been no greater poison in his life than that man. "About the affair..."

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "And I didn't tell you for the same reason you didn't tell me because it had no consequences on anything."

"Are you being serious right now? My affair may not have had any long term repercussions, but what my father did twelve years ago? You call that of no consequence? We are in Arizona going to the prison you were in, going to visit the doctor who delivered your son because from the looks of it, that boy has either vanished into thin air or is so well hidden…how is that not having consequences?"

She shrugged. "Well I had made my peace with everything. The pain dulled over the years, then you came back into my life and things were even better. Neal, he wasn't a bad guy."

"Really? You were seventeen and he was twenty-four, that's called statutory rape."

"And how old were you when you were having your affair with that woman?" she asked him.

"Seventeen. And she was a means to an end," he replied.

"And she was how old?" she ignored him.

"Close to her forties," he said.

"I rest my case." She stared at him for a moment. She could not believe his father paid good money to get his hands on that sex tape (because she was certain that woman was the other star in it) when it was completely illegal. He should have turned her over to the cops instead, but he decided to sacrifice his son's integrity for his all too precious reputation.

She could not have hated the man more than she did in that moment.

"Look, Swan," he started, "I know you cared for him, but making abstraction of the sex, he was a petty criminal who dragged you down that road with him. I know you have stolen things before when you ran away from your group home in Boston, you told me so yourself. But you were also trying to survive as best as you could," he touched the side of her face. "He sent you to jail for something you did not do."

"I know but the only way I could make peace with any of this was to forgive him, so I did that."

"Emma, if you can forgive him for what he has put you through, then surely you can find it in your heart to forgive yourself. What you did, you did out of love, not out of some sort of eagerness to get rid of the baby."

She nodded at him and he stood and extended his hand to her which she took. "Come, my love. It's been a long day and we will have an even longer one tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

"I had other things in mind," she took off her shirt and slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started kissing him. "I'd like to go to bed, but I don't need sleep."

He smiled at her, rubbing his thumb along her jaw line. "I'm happy to oblige, my lady."


	16. Chapter 16

"What has gotten into you, child?" Mrs. Black grabbed Cordelia's arm roughly as they left the school. "This behavior is entirely unacceptable and embarrassing. You have taken to cutting class? Is that cigarette smoke I smell on you?" she eyed the child suspiciously. She reeked of the vile smell. If she started smoking now then how long would it take her to put her hands on drugs?

Mr. Jones would be so very angry when he found his granddaughter was skipping class seeing as this would be going on the report card if not her permanent record. She really did not want to be on the receiving end of that man's anger, frightening that he was. Cordelia might not have been her child, but she did the best she could raising her. "Answer me!" she yelled at her between gritted teeth as they stood behind the front gate.

"I have nothing to say to you," the girl retorted hotly trying to pry her arm out of the older woman's tight grip.

"You are grounded," she replied shoving the girl inside the car. "No sleepovers, no library, no bookstores, no piano recital, no dance classes, no basketball and that role in the Peter Pan play you have been rehearsing for after school hours? You can also forget about it. Everything you enjoy so much? You will be doing none of it!"

"I cut class because I'm bored. Everyone is too slow, they don't really understand math," Cordelia defended herself. Her piano recital was important and she really wanted to be part of the play. She had thrown all her energies into that. It had become her escape from a life she did not feel she belonged in anymore. "I'm just really bored is all."

"Is that why you reek of cigarette smoke?"

Cordelia shook her head vehemently. "I did _not_ smoke. I was just standing with people who did, older kids."

Mrs. Black looked at her startled. "Who are these older kids?"

"Kyle and Marcus."

Mrs. Black clenched her jaw. Boys? Probably some delinquents from some public school, people who lacked manners and pedigree. Cordelia's mother had gotten pregnant with her when she was barely an adult. If the elder Jones ever found out, he would surely blow a gasket over this, give himself another heart attack. He already resented enough that his grandchild was a bastard. This had been one of two reasons the child was being sent to an all girls private school. A teacher at Holy Cross had asked Mrs. Black if Cordelia had any relation to the Jones clan. She had been taken out of there not a month later. "How old are they?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Fifteen, maybe sixteen? They go to the coffee shop where I get my cocoa in the morning. I just met them there. Kyle said I was pretty, so…"

"Do you think you're pretty, Cordelia? Guys will tell you anything to get in your pants. You will stay away from them!" her voice was shrill and a little panicked. "Do you hear me, Cordelia? Have I made myself clear?"

The woman was starting to freak her out, but Cordelia nodded nonetheless. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused you, Mrs. Black. I'm sorry for cutting class and hanging out with those boys and I'm sorry for causing you unnecessary stress. Please forgive me."

"You are still grounded."

Cordelia sighed. "It's not fair, the recital and the play. The play counts for extra credit and my recital, there are people from Julliard who will be attending."

Mrs. Black eyed the child. "You should give up this silly dream of Julliard. You can become a doctor instead, you're brilliant at math and I'm sure you'll do very well with physics and chemistry and biology when you start having those subjects next year. You could become a lawyer. You have a very keen mind."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. She had heard this speech several times. She was convinced it was the entire reason her guardian had refused her a new piano. "I love music, so shouldn't I do something I love?"

"But you love math too."

"But music makes me happy."

"Are you not happy, child?"

She shook her head. "Why would you think I'm happy when I'm clearly not?."

"And why is that?"

Cordelia looked up at Mrs. Black. This woman had been part of her life since her parents had died. She had taken care of her dutifully, but she had never shown her any affection. Her smiles were very rare and there were no hugs or kisses for her. "I want my mom and dad," she replied with a shaky voice and quickly wiped away the tear that had fallen.

The woman sighed heavily. "Let me know how that works out when you manage to bring the dead back." She chanced a look at the small face. Tears were now in free fall and Janice Black was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Yelling, she could deal with, tears, she had never been equipped for. Furthermore, she did not understand this sudden change in her little charge. Cordelia never really cried. She always hid her feelings behind a very stoic exterior and kept to herself. But lately, it had been an entirely different story.

"You can go to your recital and participate in the play. We would not want to deprive anyone of a suitable enough Wendy, now would we?" she said trying to placate her.

"Sarah's mom said she would drive us." One thing Cordelia did not want was for this woman to show up at her play or her recital. All she did these days was sap her energies and confidence, make her feel worthless with her words. She constantly hurt her with the things she said to her. She wished she had a mom like Sarah's who always had a kind word, a hug and a kiss for her whenever she saw how down Cordelia felt, something Mrs. Black never noticed or made no effort rectifying. Instead she berated her about her mood and how she should be grateful for what she had, grateful to her for taking care of someone who wasn't even her family and would go on about how some people would kill to live in a house like the one she lived in and go to one of the best schools. Those speeches always made her feel even more isolated and alone because it had become clear that the woman did not understand her in the least. She did not understand why her parents would ever want someone like that to replace them and take care of her.

"Would it be okay if Sarah and I did our school work together? She needs help with her math, if that's alright with you?"

The woman merely looked at her before she nodded. "Fine, but I want you home for dinner. You know what happens if you show up past that time?"

Cordelia sighed. "Yes, Mrs. Black. If I miss dinner time, I will go straight to my room without eating anything until morning."

"Good," she pulled over. "Off you go!"

Cordelia pulled her metro card out of her pocket and headed down to the subway.

347, 5th Avenue, between 38th and 39th street was her destination. She swiped her card and walked past the turnstile. She got on the subway and waited for her stop. Once there, she walked in the middle of throngs of people. She had never been here alone but she had looked at the map on her computer and knew exactly where she was headed. She finally stood in front of the building and stared at the directory. She buzzed the suite number, 2120 and heard the buzzer sound back and the door click as it was unlocked for her. She felt nervous as she rode the elevator to the 21st floor of the building.

She had cried when Mrs. Black had torn the business card Killian Jones had given her though she remembered the name of his business, _J&S Investigations_. She had done a quick internet search and found the address, but curiosity had gotten the best of her and she had googled him as well and read up some of the things she had found on him. None of them great, she had to admit but it was all gossip. His father was a big deal, so it was normal, she concluded. He had been kind to her when she needed it and she felt a certain kinship to him. His mom had died too after all and his wife was an orphan, so maybe he understood her pain better than most.

Once the elevator stopped and she exited, she inhaled deeply to calm her nerves and took one shaky step towards the suite that served as an office then another one before she turned left and stood in front of a glass door. The moment seemed to stretch before she finally pulled the heavy door open and walked inside. A dark head looked up from behind a desk with raised eyebrows.

"Can I help you?"

"I…umm…I'm here to see Killian Jones?"

"Do you have an appointment?" Ruby stood and leaned over her desk with a smirk.

"No, but he showed me your picture and told me to come here if I were ever in trouble."

"You must be Cordelia," Ruby went around the desk and nudged the girl further inside to the conference room. "Are you in trouble? Did something happen?"

"Is Killian here?"

"No, he's in Arizona," Ruby replied.

"And his wife? I think her name is Emma."

"She is with him."

"Oh…when is he coming back?"

"I'm not sure. Are you in trouble? Did your guardian harm you or do anything to you?" Ruby asked.

"No, it's nothing like that," Cordelia told her even though she had not appreciated being shoved into the car so unceremoniously. She opened her school bag and pulled out a manila envelope. "It's just an invitation to my recital and my play. The play is tomorrow night, but the recital is next week. I thought maybe…" she did not really know what she had been thinking other than he seemed to take some interest in her and she wanted to have someone who was not Sarah's mother be there for her. She wanted another face that was somewhat familiar to cheer her on. "Forget it, actually," she finally said. They had barely spent an hour together, what would he care about her play or her recital? "I need to go back home and finish my homework."

"Why don't you leave these with me," Ruby started, "and I'll make sure he gets them. It will make him happy, trust me. I know that woman ripped the card he gave you, so here's a new one," she handed her a business card. "Come to think of it, do you have a cell phone?"

Cordelia nodded her head. "So why don't we just program it in right now but under a different name."

"It can't be a boy's name because she checks my phone."

"Well then, let's call him _Lillian_," she chuckled. "If know Killian and I think I know him pretty well, he is going to really, really hate that," she winked at her. "You can just tell her she's someone new at school. Do you want to give me your number so that he'll have it if he needs to get in touch with you?"

Cordelia scratched the back of her ear and ran a nervous hand in her hair. "My…I…huh," she stopped in her tracks taking in the newcomer.

"Mary Margaret," Ruby began, "this is Cordelia. Cordelia, this is Mary Margaret."

"Oh, Killian's little friend?" Mary Margaret's took in a sharp breath as her eyes roamed over Cordelia's face.

Ruby nodded. "Here, honey, write your cell phone number. I'll call you a cab, it's starting to be dark and I don't want you out there on your own."

They both walked her out of the office and accompanied her to the lobby making sure she got into the cab before they headed back inside.

"What was your reaction about?" Ruby asked Mary Margaret, "I saw how your eyes nearly jutted out of your head."

"I don't know, the way she was scratching her ear and compulsively running her hand in her hair."

"You mean like Killian when he gets all nervous or flustered? Maybe she's related to his family somehow. Like a distant cousin? Maybe that's the reason his father took interest in her? Like a do over of sorts?"

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret inquired.

"His eldest is dead, his youngest hates his guts. And it doesn't exactly sound like the man does anything out of the goodness of his heart. He's a billionaire businessman and a politician. You think he would be doing this if there wasn't something in it for him?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I'd like to think that people are capable of change."

"Not people like Killian's father," Ruby replied as they made it back to the office. "You should know that by now, especially in our line of work. People like him believe they're God, that they can do whatever they want. They play with peoples' lives. In their bigger picture, we are just pawns, just like that poor girl is. Look at how he has tried to interfere in Emma and Killian's lives over and over. If Killian had not been so stubborn, there would be no them and that man would have won."

"Speaking of Emma and Killian, do you think they found something in Arizona? It's really quiet around here without them. There's no bickering. Even their eye rolls at each are loud."

Ruby laughed. "Let's enjoy it while it lasts. I really hope they turned up something."

.

.

.

"Dr. Jenkins died," the secretary at the clinic stared at both Emma and Killian slightly bewildered. "He passed close to two weeks ago now.'

"I used to be a patient of his and I was wondering if I could retrieve my file," Emma said trying to recover from the shock of hearing the man had died. He had been kind to her during her pregnancy and during the delivery. He had retrieved Killian's compass from her personal effects at her behest. She had not expected to hear such news. This trip to Arizona was proving to be a difficult one.

The visit at the prison had been a complete waste of time. The warden was a different one who had been kind enough to allow them access to her case file even though it was against code, but there was nothing new there they did not already know. "Why has the gender of the baby not been noted?" she asked the man who had been looking over her shoulder. "I don't know," he had replied. "An oversight perhaps?" He had been of no further assistance and she had left the building feeling even more overwhelmed than when she had arrived.

"How long before we can get her medical records?" Killian asked the secretary.

"It takes about two weeks depending. If it's been a while then the records are likely in the archives in the basement. The person who handles those is on vacation and she comes by once a week because we don't really have all that many requests for old documents."

"What's a while?" Emma inquired.

"Archived after two years of the patient not showing up."

"Thank you," Killian replied with a smile before dragging Emma by the arm outside. "Maybe this is for the best," he whispered as they stopped across the street from the clinic.

"What do you mean?"

"I can have Philip hack the security system and disable it and we can just head down to the basement ourselves and look for what we need. I mean think about it. With everything that's happened thus far…"

"No, you're right," Emma replied. She watched as he dialed Philip's number and listened to his end of the conversation. They went back to their hotel and waited for the darkness.

Hours later, as they stood in the basement looking through labeled boxes of medical files, Emma heard Killian gasp and she turned towards him and stared as he pulled a file out of the archives box. While it bore her name, it held nothing inside except for an ultrasound picture. He flipped it and saw the scratchy hand writing.

_Baby Swan-Jones, 20 weeks Ultrasound, November 2001._

"It's empty, Swan," he told her with a hint of panic in his voice, "except for this," he handed her the picture. "Did you ever mention me to your doctor?" he asked her pointing at Swan-Jones label.

"No," she tried to remember. "Why would I mention you?"

"Did you ask him to print this out for you?"

"No."

"Then why would he?"

"For my file I guess," she replied. She watched as he pursed his lips. He looked tense. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"Honestly, Swan, I don't know what to think at all. If you never told him, then how does he know anything about me?"

She understood about as much as he did.

She was not sure if she should call this a success or a bust. She felt as though they were chasing their tales. And this clinic…She wanted to cry looking down at the fuzzy lines of something in the ultrasound. They had come all the way here for this? An old ultrasound?

"What if he sold him on the black market, Killian? This is not unheard of. It would explain the money he received shortly after I gave birth," she was staring at him wide eyed. There was no chance they would be able to find him if that was the case. She came and stood next to him and saw there were several empty files there. She recognized one of the names, someone else who was in jail with her and had a baby she had not kept. The file was empty. There was nothing in that one, not even an ultrasound. Just a folder. He put the files back in the box and the box back where he had taken it from.

"Why would he keep empty files?" she asked him.

"So that he can make up a story if someone comes to him and asks him for their medical history? We'll ask Philip to do some more digging," he said as they headed up silently and into the office that bore the late doctor's name. Emma went straight to the filing cabinet which was practically empty and he sat behind the desk. He turned the computer on and waited for it to load. "Password," he muttered under his breath but it was nothing he could not handle. It was an easy override. He took out his USB key and started copying everything he could put his hands on. There would be time to go through all this information and see what the good doctor was up to.

"Killian?"

He looked up to see her holding a yellowed business card. "What's that?"

"It has your father's name and phone number on it."

"Oh what the fuck!" he retrieved the USB key, shut off the computer and went to her. "I guess that answers that," he said looking at the card she was holding thinking of the Swan-Jones label on the back of the ultrasound. "Let's get out of here, Swan and try and catch a flight home as soon as possible."

Whatever Dr. Jenkins knew, he had taken with him all his secrets to his grave. His father however...whatever he knew, he would never tell him, that much Killian was certain of. If he had been inclined to believe Killian would leave Emma after he had revealed to him the lie about the pregnancy and the baby, then he must know by now how wrong he had been.

His father had made a terrible miscalculation and Killian promised himself he would make him pay after he found and brought his child to safety. He glanced over at Emma. She was staring intently at the piece of paper, running her index on the picture over and over again. That was his child too, he thought and something akin of panic gripped him.

"We'll find him, Swan."

She sighed. She really wanted to believe him.

.

.

.

Justin Brown made his way slowly to the table and pulled a chair out. He sat down, smoothed out his grey prison jumpsuit and let the prison guard chain him down with the handcuffs. He smiled at the man sitting across from him.

"Anything?" Justin winced as he moved his leg under the table. His thigh was still burning where he had been stabbed and he was limping thanks to that. His had difficulty inhaling deep breathes because his rib had shattered where he had been shot which had likely saved his life.

"They're both out of town," the man replied, swallowing thickly. Justin Brown was a scary man. Greg's girlfriend had once told him she thought he had soulful brown eyes, but Greg knew better than that. The man who sat across from him scared him half to death. And being here at Rickers did nothing to calm his nerves. If Justin said kill, you killed and if he said die, then you did. He was law. He would be lying if he said he did not feel a sense of relief knowing his boss was behind bars awaiting his arraignment for the drug business he was running through _Wonderland_. But he also knew the man felt like a caged animal which meant he would wreck havoc if he was not convicted. "He is the son of a a billionaire turned state senator," he continued, "and the blonde is his wife. She's in bails bond."

"Keep following them. Find out everything you can about them. Find out what they love, what they do, every weakness…"

"Yes, boss," Greg replied before he stood and left.

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_**As always, if there's any confusion, let me know and I'll do my best to clear it up either with a/n or by inserting something in one of the chapters.**_

_**Cheers :)**_


	17. Chapter 17

**_I was asked for a synopsis of the previous chapter by a guest reviewer. So here goes! Please leave your thoughts. There's something huge coming down the pike. I already started writing it, but it's not slated for probably 2-3 chapters, I'd say._**

**_Cheers :)_**

**_._**

**_._**

**_Chapter 15 had Emma and Killian travel to Arizona in order to investigate what happened over there as their starting point in being able to trace the baby Emma had given up for adoption. They hit a dead at the prison and found out the doctor who had been handling Emma's case had died. They decided to break into the clinic and go through the archives where they found a lot of empty files. Emma's medical records were also missing except for an ultrasound bearing the note "Baby Swan-Jones" which brought up more questions for Killian and Emma. In the doctor's office, Emma found a business card belonging to Killian's father._**

**_In New York, Cordelia was having a difficult time with her guardian Janice Black. She managed to make it to the Killian's place of business and met both Ruby and Mary Margaret. She had brought tickets for her play and her recital in the hopes that Killian would go._**

**_We also met Justin Brown (and his henchman Greg) who is at Rickers Island awaiting his arraignment. He is the guy Emma stabbed and Killian shot (in return he shot Killian through the shoulder) in the alley behind Wonderland. Greg was tasked to find out what Killian's weaknesses are. He has also filled his boss in on Emma and Killian's status as well as to whom his father is._**

.

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.

Elsa Winters applauded as the play ended. Her daughter Sarah and her best friend Cordelia both had starring roles in it. The play was a joint effort between Holy Cross and Our Lady of Mercy and it had turned out better than she had expected. She slung her purse over her shoulder and picked up her black wool winter jacket before heading backstage. She spotted the two girls talking animatedly and stopped walking, deciding to give them space to discuss whatever it was they were discussing. Those two had been inseparable for the better part of their lives. She remembered Sarah coming home heartbroken that Cordelia was changing schools. Elsa had explained to her patiently that she would be across the street and that they would still be able to do most things together like they always had.

_"__But she's like my sister."_

_"__I know, honey."_

_"__Can't you convince Mrs. Black to not take her?"_

_"__She must have her reasons, my love."_

When Elsa looked at her daughter and Cordelia, she wished she had that growing up. Her parents had moved her from her native Norway to New Hampshire in the United States when she was as young as her daughter. Her life had been completely uprooted. She had come to a strange country, a small town in a small state with a shaky knowledge of the language and understanding of the culture. Where she had been popular back home, she was made fun of and bullied by children in her class. She felt isolated and alone. Her classmates thought her strange and they were relentless. She had fallen into the bad crowd in her ultimate bid to find somewhere to belong.

She ran away from home when she was sixteen because she did not get along with her parents. She met a guy, her loser as she called him now, who swept her off her feet. They traveled together, they stole together until she was caught red handed in Phoenix and he was nowhere to be found. She ended up in jail and found out she was pregnant.

She had been all set to give up her baby for adoption until she saw a girl her age doing just that and how heartbroken and miserable she was after that. She had not spoken to her but had looked at her discreetly for days after that as she held a pillow against her chest instead of a baby and Elsa felt sorry for her. She wanted to speak to her but she did not think it would be a good idea seeing as she was still had a month to go with her own pregnancy while the other woman had given up her child. They had known each other in passing, having an encouraging smile here and there for each other, but she had closed herself off completely after that. She still remembered her name.

Elsa had changed her mind thereafter and decided to keep her baby, a decision she had never once regretted. The only thing her ex had been good for was the donation he had made towards her daughter. Her beautiful, vivacious daughter who was born while she was still serving her time for stealing a car. One of the many mistakes of her youth. But she had grown.

Years later, she had changed her last name and moved to New York and became a fashion consultant for celebrities as well as the powerful people of the city. She could afford to live in the lap of luxury with her daughter but she always felt sadness for little Cordelia. Orphaned, no family and that woman as her guardian to boot. Mrs. Black was not horrible, but she was cold and had never shown affection towards the girl that Elsa had seen.

She had known Cordelia since the girls had started kindergarten. She tried to be there for her as much as she could. She took her and Sarah out every chance she got, tried to be a little more than just her best friend's mother. She organized sleepovers, dinners, shopping trips, took them to the zoo, the museums, even took them to fashion week a few months ago.

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it! You make a fine Tiger Lily," she told Sarah hugging her tightly, "and you were a beautiful Wendy," she ran her fingers in Cordelia's thick locks.

"Thank you, Mrs. Winters."

"Where's Mrs. Black?"

"I did not invite her."

Elsa was taken aback by that. In the last month or so, she had noticed a distinct change in Cordelia. She recognized the signs all too well. She was rebelling against her guardian. This could only end badly, she thought.

"How about you two get changed out of your costumes and we can have that pizza I promised you?"

She looked as both girls nodded and ran towards the locker room. She sighed and waited.

She had truly been lucky in her bad luck.

She looks over at the girls as they walked back towards her and Cordelia stood for a moment looking at the people scattered around the auditorium, her eyes scanning the wide room, searching as she bit down on her lower lip, scratching the back of her ear.

Definitely nervous, Elsa concluded. Only she was uncertain what had brought that on. "Everything alright, honey?"

Cordelia nodded, forcing a smile to her face, but her features hard as she tried were contorted into something painful. "What's wrong, Delia?"

"I'm hungry, can we just go?"

It was really difficult not to notice the disappointment in that face. Elsa pushed the girls ahead of her, her eyes bearing down on the back of Cordelia's face. That child was completely miserable.

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.

_Two days later_

"Emma?"

At the sound of her name, Emma looked up and stared at the woman standing in front of her. "Darlene?"

"It has been so long!" the older woman beamed at her. "Far too long."

"Join me," Emma smiled back at her, pointing the chair across from where she sat. It was a day after they had gotten back from Arizona. Killian had decreed that she should relax and take it easy, he had booked her an appointment at one of the high end spas though she had protested because spending most of her day at a spa would not take her mind off how absolutely disturbing the trip to Arizona had been. They had come back with more questions than answers and Killian had barely spoken at all. This man who seemed to have insight into everything had barely said two words during the trip back. Whenever she glanced at him, she would find him staring into space. Every now and then, he would squeeze her hand tightly into his as though he was seeking some comfort.

_Baby Swan-Jones_, she kept seeing the handwriting in the back of the ultrasound in her mind's eye. It was him all along, wasn't it? And how could it be any other way, she wondered.

He had not said anything about that. He had not commented or mentioned it. He retrieved into himself, into his thoughts, but she could see his inner struggles. They were the same ones she was having. What she really wanted was for him to hold her and to let her hold him.

She was sitting at one of her usual hunting spots The Emerald Isle Bakery when Darlene had accosted her. She always remembered Darlene as a kind and devoted woman who did the best she could with Killian. She knew that it could not have been very easy for her, stepping in and trying to fill his mother's shoes.

She watched as the woman pulled the chair and sat in front of her. "How is everything?"

"Everything is great," Emma lied. No, everything really was not great. "Killian and I are very happy," she said, but really, this quest for her missing child was taking a toll on her, on him, on them as a couple. They were both exhausted, emotionally drained and his father's involvement in all of this…she did not know where it began and where it ended.

Or if it ended at all.

He was the only source of answers they had and Killian stubbornly refused to go see him when she asked him this morning. He had mumbled something about how they did not need him to figure any of this out and that his father was a buggering arse who would lie to him anyway.

"Can I ask you a question, Darlene?" Emma looked at the woman expectantly as she picked up her mug and sipped her cocoa.

Darlene nodded and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

"Killian's father, you have known him for a really long time, how was he exactly?"

Darlene sighed heavily. "Would you believe me if I told you that Richard and I knew each other when we were small children?"

"Really?"

"Hmm-hmm," Darlene replied. "My mother was his nanny. She was both his nanny and his older brother's."

"He had an older brother? I always thought he was an only child."

"It is not so, it's just something no one ever really talked about and Killian always had less than a little interest in his family's history. There were two boys, my mother used to bring me with her some days and I used to spend them with Liam and Richard."

"Hang on. His brother's name was Liam?"

"Yes. He was about four years older than Richard."

"What happened to him?"

"Vietnam happened to him. One day, Marines showed up at the Jones' doorstep with the announcement that Liam was missing in action and later confirmed dead. Richard changed after that. He told everyone to stop calling him Ricky because that's what his brother used to call him. It's not until he met Katelyn that he seemed to go back to his normal self. I was in California by then, I was pursuing my schooling, I met my husband, we got married, had children. We decided to come back to New York and then he up and left me without any explanation. I was laid off from my job shortly after."

Emma listened to Darlene as she spoke. No income, she needed to keep a roof over her children's heads and food on the table, so she had gone to Richard Jones for a job, anything he could give her was fine. He had given her the job she still held to this day without asking her any questions. He had helped her when she needed help the most.

"We were not friends anymore, however," she continued. "He and his wife were having marital problems due to the business and his bid to run for political office. That had taken over his life to the point of becoming obsessed with it. He openly cheated on her and she got her revenge by doing much of the same, then she got pregnant with Killian and he started questioning the boy's paternity. He was not there when she gave birth and he did not hold him until he got the DNA test back confirming that he was the father. Things went from bad to worse after that. She got pregnant and miscarried which sent her into a depression. They fought and she threw things at his head, he screamed at her and slammed doors in her face. She wanted to foster you and he refused her. Liam asked me to watch over his brother and left for boarding school because he could not take it anymore. We saw him some weekends. He wanted to get emancipated and then take his brother away, but he died before he could do any of that. Everything unraveled after that. Richard was not always like this, but the minute he changed, he changed into something his parents would not be proud of."

She understood better the Liam situation now. He had named his first born after the brother he had loved and lost. "Does he love Killian?"

"I think he loves him as much as a man like him can love. You see, Richard is a man who likes being in control. He is in control of his business, he is in control of his state senate and he was not in control of his wife or his son. Killian is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, his thought process was always emotionally based. There's a reason he and his father always fought, never saw eye to eye."

"Why does he hate me?"

"You took his son from him. He blames you for that," Darlene replied and Emma was a little shocked by the simplicity of the answer.

"No, I didn't," she defended herself.

"In his mind, you did, Emma. It was nothing that could have been helped. His attitude towards his son was always one of disdain. I'm not sure he ever got over questioning the boy's paternity to begin with. She had an affair with a friend of his that I don't think he has ever forgiven. He stayed with her to keep up appearances, the beautiful lawyer wife, brilliant and full of life, the two sweet boys, the perfect family…You know, I think she knew exactly what she was doing. Katelyn knew he would not accept that she foster a child, so she made sure you and Killian were entrenched in each others' lives and she told me that I should take him to you if he ever asked and he did. And Richard hated that. The worst things got, the further Killian was pushed away and the closer you two got. It's his doing. He has no one to blame but himself but he will never take responsibility for his part in pushing his son away."

Her eyes roamed over the people sitting in the bakery. She waved at someone and Emma turned around to see a girl who could not be more than eleven walking with purpose towards them.

"Hello, Mrs. Novak."

"Emma, this is Cordelia," Darlene introduced them. "Cordelia used to come around and practice her piano," she smiled at the girl. "I miss hearing you play."

Cordelia smiled timidly and looked at Emma.

Emma looked back at her and smiled. This must be the girl Killian had gone on about after that fruitless visit at the Brownstone the other day, she concluded. She did not say anything to her, but felt a sudden nervousness. She put her mug down and picked up her wallet and cell phone off the table. "It was nice talking to you, Darlene and it was nice meeting you, Cordelia. I have an appointment, so I really have to go. Maybe we'll run into each other again?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She left the bakery in a huff and walked quickly to her car. She learned her head on the steering wheel once inside, trying to steady her breathing. She picked up her head and looked as Cordelia and another girl who had been standing off to the side made their own way out of the bakery. She watched her stop at the light, beverage in hand and cross the street to the gate of one of the private schools in the area. Cordelia and her friend split up after hugging. She watched as she stood there for a moment, scratching the back of her ear before she finally made her way beyond the gates and disappearing in the crowd of girls.

Emma exhaled the breath she did not realize she had been holding. She felt the sudden urge of crying. The pressure and the stress for the past days were catching up to her and it was all she could do to keep herself together. She picked up her phone and dialed the spa number. "This is Emma Swan," she started. "I have an 11 o'clock that I would like to cancel…I understand there's a short notice cancellation fee. Thank you."

She ran a nervous hand in her hair and drove away. What she really wanted to do was crawl into bed and be dead to the world. Unshed tears started burning her eyes. She felt as though she was at her wits end.

"She's an orphan just like you, Emma," she told herself out loud. That was probably the reason she was so affected by her.

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"I managed to get something for you. Phoenix General happens to keep all the ultrasounds on tape and they have been archived into their system, and since that Dr. Jenkins was affiliated to the hospital," Philip said as he pulled his laptop out of his bag and put it on the conference room table.

"You mean you managed to get a live ultrasound?"

Philip smiled. "I think I deserve a bonus for that and then you can spring for a nice vacation for me and my girlfriend. By the way, she really wants an engagement ring from Tiffany's. She has her heart set on it and I hate to disappoint her," he was typing furiously as he spoke.

Killian rolled his eyes. "I knew you weren't doing this out of the goodness of your heart. How much is that ring?"

"$20K."

"Why don't I just write you a blank check? Why do you always go for girls with extravagant and expensive taste?"

Philip shrugged. "She might have extravagant and expensive taste, but she is uncomplicated. I don't think I can say the same about your wife."

"Watch your mouth, Phil," Killian warned him. He looked over the other man's shoulder as he worked. He had barely slept since they had gotten back from Phoenix. He was not sure what Emma was thinking but he knew his mind was filled with that ultrasound picture Emma had put on her night stand. Shame he could not make anything out.

"You're here?" Ruby looked at him with a raised eyebrow as she walked inside with Victor carrying a coffee tray. "I didn't expect you here so soon," she said. "I take it things did not go very well."

"I'm not sure," he replied nodding at Victor who nodded back at him. "What are you doing here?"

"My day off, but on call as always," Victor answered.

"That girl Cordelia came by a couple of days ago."

"She okay?" he asked her concerned.

"Well, she says she is," Ruby told him, "she left these for you," she handed him the manila envelope and the card. "I told her I would pass on the message. This is her cell phone number."

He looked at the time, a little after twelve and he dialed the number. He caught her voice mail and left a message, thanking her for the tickets and asking her if he could buy her a hot chocolate and to call him.

"Is that a heartbeat?" he asked Philip as he hung up his phone and stood over his shoulder next to Ruby and Victor. The screen had the note Swan baby on it, not Swan-Jones like it was on the hard copy. It also had the date notation, November 2001.

Victor nodded. "That's definitely a heartbeat," he said. "Is this even legal?"

"It is not and you will keep your face shut if you want it to remain as pretty as it is," Philip replied watching as the image on the screen moved slightly, the sound of the heartbeat resounding in the somewhat quiet conference room. "Am I a genius or what?" he patted himself on the shoulder.

"You are a genius," Killian whispered. He could not believe his ears. If anything could bring him down to his knees, that was it, he thought. A heartbeat. It was strong and he did not think he had ever heard anything so beautiful.

"So is the ultrasound of Emma's son?" Ruby asked. She looked at Killian in awe and he looked back at her and his emotions were threatening to spill. "This could be your son too, Killian. You're hearing his heartbeat."

"That's not a boy," Victor scuffed.

"Of course it's a boy," Killian replied. "The doctor said it was a boy."

"Well that _doctor_," he air quoted, "was wrong. I'm looking at a girl," he pointed at the screen. "You see this? The black is liquid, the white is solid. The whiter it is, the more solid the tissue is. This is actually a very nice ultrasound. This is the baby's head and the face right here. You can even see the nose, the cheeks, the lips and the chin. This is the spine and this here," he pointed at the muscle that was contracting, "is the baby's heart. And this, my friend," he showed them something else in the image, "this is not a wiener, it's the umbilical cord. This is not a boy, Killian. This is a girl."

Killian felt his throat close up. "Are you sure?"

"You can run it by a technician if you want, but we're looking at a girl."

"The doctor told her it was a boy."

"And he could have claimed it was a mistake if she had chosen to keep it. No harm, no foul," Victor replied.

"Everyone just lied to her?" he said more to himself. "They all lied to her."

Just then his phone vibrated on the table signaling a text message and he ignored it. Not five seconds later, it vibrated again. He picked it up and looked at his messages.

_I love hot chocolate but it's just a suggestion – Cordelia_

_Basketball practice has been cancelled. I finish at 330._

He really was not feeling up for this. His mood had drastically shifted, thinking about all the dead ends they had hit because they did not even have the correct gender to begin with. He felt as though someone had been punching him in the stomach repeatedly since they had left that clinic in Phoenix. The ultrasound, his father's business card and now this. The heartbeat kept playing on a loop so much so that it was now beating in tandem with his. He felt overwhelmed.

He looked at Victor who had moved away from the table and stirring sugar in his coffee, talking in a hushed tone with Ruby who was looking in his direction. That's a girl, not a boy, Victor's voice kept repeating.

A baby girl? He could imagine her all pink and beautiful and his father had meddled and now he had no idea where she was.

His phone vibrated again and he looked down.

_It's okay if you can't today. Maybe another time._

Bloody hell, he thought. He could not see her face, but he was certain she looked disappointed. Her text message sounded disappointed and resigned. He remembered her sitting there at his mother's piano, running her fingers on the keys with elegance. Mr. Jones is my benefactor, she had told him. Her parents had died.

He did not know if there was a higher power at work but something had put her in his path.

He texted her back that he would meet her right outside the school gates. "I got to go," he said picking up his jacket and other things in a hurry. "Whatever we discussed here stays here," he warned everyone. "I will tell Emma when the time is right. Can I count on your discretion?"

Three heads nodded back at him. "Philip, keep working and I'll front the money not only for your vacation and the ring, but also for the honeymoon."

"And the wedding?"

Killian sighed. He was about to reply, but he was in a hurry. She was finishing school in three hours and he was a nervous wreck. In the elevator, he opened the manila envelope and looked at the tickets she had left for him with Ruby. A pair for a play which he had already missed and another pair for a piano recital coming up in a few days.

He wondered if he had really found who he and Emma had been looking for.


	18. Chapter 18

**_As always, I don't own the characters unless you have no clue who they are when you read the names._**

**_Thank you for the over 100 reviews and the almost 150 follows and the 50 faves, yay for milestones! I know the story has all these characters that have nothing to do with Once for one thing and that the story is slow moving and that...well there's more narration than dialogue at times, so thank you for bearing with me. The story is building towards its climax right now, so we are getting somewhere. If you remember the previous chapter, then you can skip right ahead of the next part._**

**_._**

**_Previously on chapter 16, I introduced Elsa Winters as Sarah's mother (Sarah is also Cordelia's bff). Elsa's story is much like Emma's with the only difference that she decided to keep her child where Emma decided to give up hers for adoption. She has known Cordelia for about 7 years now, since the girls were in kindergarten together._**

**_Emma ran into Darlene at the bakery and they got to talking about Killian's father for a bit. Emma finds out the reasons he might hate her. She also meets Cordelia for the first time and is left unsettled by that meeting._**

**_At the office, Killian sees the live ultrasound of the baby Emma was carrying and gets to hear the heartbeat which leaves a very big impression on him. Victor who happens to be there informs him that the baby in the ultrasound is not a boy but a girl. Killian is puzzled by that and later starts putting two and two together._**

**_Now, unto Chapter 17._**

_._

_._

_._

_I'm still grounded. She says she will get a restraining order against you. I'm so sorry!_

Of course she would, miserable woman that she was, doing everything she could to keep him away from her. He was inclined to believe that woman knew the truth.

Killian stared at the note Sarah had given him earlier in the day with the explanation that she had barely seen her friend. Mrs. Black dropped her off at school and Mrs. Black picked her up after classes. It was a miracle she had managed to get the note at all.

It had been three days, he counted since he had gotten to see her. The last time he had been with her, she had been dragged away from him as they were walking through Central Park. That _woman_, that battle ax, Mrs. Black had caused a scene he would not soon forget. She had yelled at him and accused him of luring a young and impressionable girl away from her home with his charm and good looks. She had ignored Cordelia's protests that they had just ran into each other and this was the first time she had seen him since that day at the Brownstone though that had been a lie.

He had not replied to her accusations because they were completely preposterous and asinine and he did not want to cause Cordelia anymore distress, but people had stood there, gawking at him as though he was some criminal or pervert preying on a barely teenager when the woman's assertions could not be further from the truth.

The truth was he had grown attached over the past three weeks. He had grown attached and fallen in love without even realizing it and he was stuck in this whirlwind of feelings and emotions he had not expected to feel for someone he had known for less than a month.

And yet, there he was, already staking his claim, already behaving like the proud father. He had moved in on that territory, his mind, his heart seemingly refusing to wait in the wings for proof.

The truth was he cared for her.

Deeply.

He and Emma had gone to her recital. She had been hesitant at first, recounting the encounter she had with the girl at the Emerald Isle Bakery and how she had practically run out of there. She was still unsure what the reason behind her behavior was.

A few pleases punctured with well placed kisses had made her relent. "I know what you're doing," she had laughed at him.

They had dressed the part for it, him in a dark suit and Emma in a tight fitting dark green dress and pumps. She had taken his breath away she was so beautiful.

They had sat next to others and watched her play, both smiling, both mesmerized. When she was done, she had stood and advanced to the front of the stage and smiled when her eyes locked with his. He had smiled back and even waived.

At the end of the recital, when parents and families reunited and chatted away, she had come to them and thanked them for coming before on impulse wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. She had looked slightly embarrassed when she finally let go and hesitant before she hugged Emma as well. She had looked at him stunned at first before she too embraced the child. It was as though both he and Emma had been engulfed in a wave of unbidden warmth and affection. They had both been overcome by emotion.

That night, when they had gone home, as they got undressed and ready for bed, when she had put her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, as he ran his fingers in her hair and played with a strand of it in turn, she told him she had felt something deep within her, like a part of her had been awakened. She had found it difficult to put into words.

But he had known exactly what she meant though she had not been able to articulate it herself.

It was something primal and as old as the world. It was something that had risen within him without a conscious effort. Standing there with Emma and Cordelia as they chatted away…it was as though they had been in a bubble that no one could penetrate, just the three of them and it had been everything they could have been together. A family, a mother and a father with their child, content to be in each others' presence.

After that, he had decided that he would be part of that life, precious as it was, come hell or high water, whether she was his or not, though he was convinced of the former rather than the latter.

He had gone to her basketball practices and games. He sat in the bleachers and watched her as she passed the ball, received it, made baskets and ran, her dark ponytail always whipping the air around. And this sense of paternal pride would rise in him each time.

But it was not just that.

She was beautiful and sweet and kind. She always had a comeback for something he said or a remark of sorts that usually made him raise an eyebrow. She was clever and quick on her feet.

He thought she was brilliant and amazing.

Just like her mother.

And like her mother, she was also guarded. He could tell she wanted to let go of her fears, but she was scared. She was guarding her heart. Upon first glance, he did not think she favored Emma in looks.

The more time he spent with her, however, the more of Emma he saw in her. She had inherited her high cheekbones, the light dusting of freckles, the chin and the smile, that unexplained love for cinnamon and hot cocoa.

_"__He doesn't like cinnamon," Emma had explained as the three of them sat inside a Coffee Bean near the office._

_"__Why not?" Cordelia had inquired looking at him puzzled._

_"__He got sick eating those Valentine's Day heart candy when we were young. He doesn't go anywhere near cinnamon since then. He can't even smell it without turning green."_

_"__Oh well! He doesn't know what he's missing out on," she shrugged dumping a spoon full of the spice in her cocoa and stirring it in. Her eyes were glinting with mischief as she took a sip and stared at him smacking her lips. "Delicious!"_

These last few days had been hellish to say the least.

The truth was he missed her and he was terribly worried for her, worried about her.

But he waited patiently for the DNA test to come back. He was ashamed when he remembered stealing her hair brush out of her school bag when she had gone to the bathroom and then done the same thing with Emma's. He had thrown two hairbrushes and a swab he had used for his own DNA into three separate and labeled plastic bags and had driven to a lab. He had asked for a rush on the tests, offered to pay more but had been rebuked. So he had to wait the six weeks.

"She reminds me of you," Emma had said to him offhandedly one day. That had made his stomach flutter with nervousness.

"How so?"

"It's little things really, like how she darts her tongue out or scratches her ear when she's nervous or flustered," she had replied. "I think you guys are spending too much time together if she's picking these things up from you," she had joked.

He wanted to tell her badly. He wanted to tell her everything badly. He wanted to show her the live ultrasound Philip had unearthed, what Victor had said, his suspicions about Cordelia, the DNA test they should be getting back in some three weeks.

They were sitting on the sofa, in the penthouse, he and Ruby, going over some accounting as it was habit at the end of every month. Their private investigating license was suspended for one more week due to the debacle in _Wonderland_, but he was content knowing they had managed to get a dangerous criminal off the streets. They still worked though Emma was doing her own thing with bails bond.

"Why hurt her unnecessarily?" he asked Ruby when she pressed him on the Cordelia matter.

"You're keeping a secret from her. She won't love you for it."

"If I tell her and this is a dead end, then she will be hurt," he had replied defensively.

"But you're spending a lot of time with this girl, you're growing attached to her," Ruby had countered. "You even think she's yours."

"I know she's mine and Emma's," he said. "I don't need a piece of paper to tell me what I already know, but I need that piece of paper to confirm it, so that I don't send Emma blindly into this. She has been hurt enough. She was devastated when that boy Adam turned out not to be her son. And then the wall we hit in Arizona."

"But you did not hit a wall in Arizona, you actually got something."

He sighed with exasperation. "Ruby, I know you have nothing but the best of intentions, but kindly keep that yap of yours closed long enough for me to sort this mess out."

"You mean you want me to keep my yap closed for the next three weeks?" she asked him sarcastically.

"No, I don't mean three weeks. Well, yes, three weeks until we get the results back," he conceded. "I have spoken to my lawyers and Philip is trying to get through all the security around my father's devices. I doubt he has left a trail there just because he is a paranoid nightmare."

"Who is a paranoid nightmare?"

He looked up suddenly from the spreadsheets. "What happened to you? What's that smell? It is foul!" She looked as though she had taken a dive into a dumpster. She was filthy and smelly and wet.

"I was in the city sewer system," she replied sheepishly, shrugging off her leather jacket and taking off her boots.

"Oh that's gross," Ruby quipped. "I would love to stay and chat, but I'm supposed to meet David and Mary Margaret for lunch." She clapped her hand over her mouth and nose and side stepped Emma to get out of the penthouse.

"Some friend you are!"

"I love you, Emma but I really would like to keep my breakfast down."

Killian arrived with a garbage bag. "I think we should dispose of everything you're wearing", he held the bag open for her while she put her leather jacket and boots and started removing her shirt and pants. "You did not answer my question. What happened to you?"

"Bail jumper decided to run," Emma shrugged. "The man hole was open for some reason, so he went in. I ran, I tripped, fell practically face first in the sewage, saw more rats than I ever wanted to see in my entire lifetime."

"Did you get your man at least?" he asked her.

"I always get my man," she replied standing in front of him wearing nothing but a smirk along with her bra and panties.

"Normally, I would be turned on, but you smell like death and other things warmed over. You look positively disgusting, Swan."

"Gee, thanks!"

"That bail jumper used to work for Justin Brown at _Wonderland _by the way. He was one of the bouncers. He skipped six months of child support and his court date."

"Sounds like a charmer," he said making his way into the bathroom and starting the water, warmer than cold, that's how she liked it.

"Something bothers me," she replied removing her undergarment and dumping them in the garbage bag with regret and a sigh before stepping under the nozzle.

"And what's that?" he sat on the cold tile, leaning his back on the wall.

"He knew his way around," she picked up the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a healthy amount in the palm of her hand.

"What do you mean?"

"I ran after him for three blocks before he went into the sewer and then he just found another exit? It's like those manholes were open and he knew they would be."

"Did he recognize you?" he suddenly remembered what she said about him having been a bouncer at _Wonderland_.

"If he did, he did not let on," she replied rinsing her hair out. "Anyway, there's nothing pepper spray and a stunt gun can't fix."

He chuckled. "Pepper spray and stunt gun? He must really have given you a hard time."

She turned the water off. "The man was twice my size! He could bench press me if he wanted to." She wrapped herself in a towel before she stepped out of the shower. "How do I smell now?" she asked him, hovering over him

"You don't stink anymore," he replied standing from his place and picking up the trash bag. "I'm going to put this down the trash shoot," he told her, "but we need to talk," he finally said and she could tell he was nervous by the way he was fidgeting and playing with his thumb ring, the way his eyes were avoiding hers.

"This trash can wait," she told him releasing the bag from his hand and guiding him to the bedroom. "What's going on?" she broke eye contact with him when she opened a drawer in her dresser and started searching for comfortable clothes to wear. She started getting dressed slowly, peering at him out of the corner of her eye. "You've been sort of strange."

"How so?"

"You look at me all serious the moment you think I'm not paying attention."

"I certainly do not!"

"Yes, you do! Is this about Cordelia?" she asked him.

He sighed. Ruby was right. This news was life altering and not something he should be keeping it from her. Were the shoe on the other foot, he would be upset with her for keeping something so vital from him. "What do you think of her?"

"She's sweet and charming. Very confident for someone in her situation," Emma replied crossing her own arms over her chest. "There's something about her," she finally admitted. "Maybe it's because she's also an orphan and I understand how she searches for her mother and father in strangers' faces. I always did that. The only difference is that her parents are dead and I don't know what happened to mine. Whatever she is looking for, whatever she finds, it will always be like a dream for her. I mean she can just pretend who she wants her parents to be, you know."

She stopped and looked at him. "She's a sad girl. Sarah seems to be her anchor much as you were mine, but it's not enough. What she wants is a family. She wants to look at someone and know where she comes from."

"Is that how you felt, Swan?"

She raised her shoulders in a dismissive manner. "We have discussed this before, Killian. You know where you come from. You have your mother's blue eyes and your father's nose. You got your love of sailing from him. If there is one thing you have in common with him, it's that. You are musically inclined like your mother and you wear your heart on your sleeve the same way she did. And there's so much more than that. You have all these connecting points to these people where you can see yourself in them. I never had that."

She took a deep breath. She had to run down a bail jumper and now chase her demons away. "I thought I would be able to see myself in my son, but that ship has sailed too."

Killian cleared his throat. "The ship might have sailed on a boy, Swan, but what if you did not have a boy?" he searched her face. She had blanched and her arms dropped next to her hips. "What if you were lied to? What if the baby is a girl and this is one of the reasons we have been coming up empty?"

"The doctor said it was a boy," she replied starting to show impatience. "When I gave birth he asked me if I wanted to hold _him_. How stupid is he to not see that it was a girl and not a boy?"

"He lied. He was paid by my father to lie. If you had changed your mind about the adoption, he would have been okay with the whole operation falling through. But you decided adoption was the way to go," he explained to her gently, "he handed the baby over to my father and my father paid him for the role he played in this deception."

He could see how angry she was becoming. "It's a girl. Philip dug up your live sonogram and Victor saw it and he says it's a girl you had, not a boy. The baby in the ultrasound, it's a girl, Emma."

Once he started talking, he could not stop himself. "We are finally on the right track."

She shook her head in disbelief. A girl? She had gone on for twelve years believing that she had given birth to a boy. It would not have made her decision any different, the baby would have been put up for adoption regardless, but finding out that what she trusted had been a pure fabrication was overwhelming and painful. "You're telling me this," she began talking, "you're telling me this and I'm feeling like I'm losing a part of myself all over again, like I'm burying this boy I thought I had for all these years." She swallowed her tears and sat on the bed pulling her legs to her body, dropping her chin on her knees.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Do you really believe this is true?"

He crouched in front of her. "I do. I would not have said anything if I was not sure of this."

"How long have you known this?" she asked him.

"Three weeks," he replied.

She pursed her lips and glared at him. "Three weeks?" Everything started making sense now. How secretive and jumpy he was, the guilty looks she caught, how little time he was spending with her and then it dawned on her. "You think Cordelia is my kid?" she snorted. "That's impossible."

"Really? How do you find this part hard to believe? This is hardly contrived. My father has the means to make this happen. Wherever this child is, whoever they are, they are also my flesh and blood too."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She is turning twelve in two months. She was born on April 12," he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "My father's involvement, he is neck deep in this," he continued. "An ultrasound with that said Baby Swan-Jones. Not Baby Swan, but Swan-Jones, when you said yourself that you never mentioned me at all to your Doctor Jenkins. They must have managed a DNA test while you were pregnant. Did he ever take a sample for an amniocentesis?"

Emma hesitated. "He took liquid to make sure the baby did not have any abnormalities and the test came back negative."

Killian sighed. "They can also use the liquid to determine paternity."

Emma swallowed thickly. "So what you're saying is that they did a paternity test using the amniotic fluid?"

"Yes!" Killian cupped her face. "Yes! He could have had it tested against his own. He would never have gone anywhere near you if the baby had not been a Jones."

"Let's say you're right, why take her at all?" He hated her, she kept thinking and he had nothing but contempt for his son. And this girl, it was not as though he had given her a family or been loving towards her. Throwing money at her meant nothing if she was so sad. She was alone and isolated.

"I don't know, he wanted you out of my life. He did not want me to have anything to do with you," he replied. He grabbed his laptop and opened it. "I don't know why he does the things he does. It was not to have a second chance. He put her up with that wretch of a woman. She is cold and unloving. He chose someone like himself to raise that poor child."

She was not saying anything. "I know this is difficult to believe, but you have spent some time with her. We went to her recital together. You told me she reminded you of me. Well she reminds me of you when you were that age."

"This can't be right, Killian."

"Really? You're willing to believe what that P.I you hired came up with, but this? The pieces of the puzzle fit and you know it as well as I do. Look, I stole her hair brush and yours and they have my DNA too. The results will be back in about three weeks."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't want you to be hurt if I was wrong."

"What's changed?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just don't see her as the stranger I met at my father's or as the orphan I feel bad for. I just see her as the girl who might be my daughter and it just makes me happy. I thought maybe you would feel the same way I do."

She pressed her eyes closed. Cordelia, she thought, so lively and sweet and kind. A bleeding heart from what she could tell, taking an extra sandwich for a homeless man who slept on the bench, something Killian had done often, still did. She remembered how she had run into her at the bakery, she remembered sitting with her and Killian and watching as she had not dusted, but dumped a spoon full of cinnamon in her hot cocoa. She remembered the look of pride in her eyes after her recital. It was the little things, the freckles she had on her nose, the chin, all hers, the ears, all his.

"Would you like to see it?" he asked her.

She dropped her legs and took the laptop from him and watched the live ultrasound and listened to the heartbeat. It took her back to a time when she had been so terrified and so very alone. She remembered how she had decided to keep her baby after she had heard this very heartbeat and now…

"I have to go to her," she stood abruptly.

"You can't. Your emotions are running high. What will you tell her?"

"The truth."

"We can't tell her anything, we need proof."

"But you're convinced it is."

"Being convinced of something is good and all, but she's the one who will need convincing. They told her her parents died. Why get her hopes up to dash them?"

"She just wants a loving home, we could give her that."

"She's not in the system and she is not up for adoption. My father has always been a very thorough man. I'm sure he covered all his angles. If she's ours, then we will go after him. I will destroy him in the press. I will air out all of his dirty laundry. He will not have enough lawyers to stop me."

"And if she's not ours?"

"Then we'll still figure something out," he reassured her. "Hey, we won't let her fall through the cracks."

Just then, both their phones rang. They looked at each other confused by that. She stayed in the bedroom to take the call and he went out in the living room to answer his own phone. Seconds later, he turned around and looked at her wide eyed with shock.

"I'll be ready in five minutes," she told him throwing on a hoodie over the shirt she was wearing and putting her wet hair up in a bun. "Who could have done this?"

"I have no idea," he replied. "Do you think it's the people from _Wonderland_?"

"Drive by shooting is not their style."

"Did Ruby say anything about Mary Margaret?"

"It's just a flesh wound. David pushed her out of the way on time, so she just needs stitches on her forearm and hairline from the fall. Ruby says she was not hit and neither was he."

"What did David tell you?" she asked.

"To meet them in the office," he replied

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "I love you," he kissed the side of her head. Someone taking their colleagues and friends for target practice had left him shaken.

"I love you," she replied. Her stomach was in knots. "I don't think it's a coincidence, Killian. My bail jumper, the drive-by, _Wonderland_ and Justin Brown's arraignment tomorrow. I hope he goes away for good."

"You and me both," he pulled the penthouse door closed behind him as they made their way out.


	19. Chapter 19

**_The characters do not belong to me unless you have no clue who they are._**

**_Thank you for the reviews and the follows. Leave your thoughts, I always enjoy reading what you guys have to say ;)_**

**_If you remember what happened in the previous chapter, you may skip right ahead the next part. If you don't, then a quick synopsis is coming._**

**_Cheers :)_**

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**_._**

**_Previously, Chapter 17, Mrs. Black finds out that Cordelia has been seeing Killian behind her back. Killian has been spending a lot of time with her due to his hunch and has convinced Emma to do the same as him. He finally comes clean with Emma about his suspicions regarding Cordelia upon Ruby's insistence. Emma has a difficult time believing him at first, but she too has to admit that the pieces fit together. while she was out on a job, Emma chased a bail jumper who used to be a bouncer at Wonderland. Her chase included a trek through the sewer system of New York City. _**

**_The chapter ends as we find out that there was a shooting and the gang were the target._**

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Janice Black waited in front of the school gates. Five minutes had gone by, then ten, then twenty. It was thirty minutes before she decided to make her way inside and see where Cordelia was. She was not in her class or at the gymnasium where her basketball team had been practicing or in the music hall. There was no trace of her.

"Mrs. Black?" a voice she recognized as belonging to the headmistress came and she turned around trying to relax her already too tight features. "I was just about to call you."

"Why is that?" she asked the other woman who was now standing in front of her.

"Cordelia left the school premises. She did not come back for her last period."

"Why did you not contact me when it happened? Should you not have been behind your desk, doing your job instead of waiting to take action? She should have been in class at two, classes are done at three thirty. This means she has been gone for more than two hours. Where is she, Headmistress? Where was your sense of urgency?"

The woman's face turned into a violent crimson. "And for that, you have my apology, Mrs. Black. I was in a meeting all afternoon and was just getting around it. Kids don't leave as you well know unless they have their parents' verbal or written consent which is something handled in the morning. Clearly in Cordelia's case, there was no emergency that she needed to leave the school otherwise, you would not be here."

"Clearly," she replied sarcastically.

The other woman cleared her voice. "This is not the first time she cuts class. She will have detention for this."

Mrs. Black was no longer listening. Damn that man, she seethed. If Cordelia was anywhere, it would be with him. That child had been sulking about the house the last three days and glaring at her. She had not spoken more than two words to her since the incident in Central Park.

"Never mind you! You are incompetent and I will report you to the school board," she glowered at the headmistress before she made her way towards the school exit. Killian Jones was ruining everything. The situation she had was good and he was putting his nose where he had no business doing so.

"If Cordelia is with him, so help me God, I will go to his father."

It was not the option of her choosing because she knew he would be furious at her for letting this happen in the first place, but she might not have a choice in the matter.

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"How are you feeling, Mary Margaret?"

"I think I should have followed my first instinct and became a school teacher. Six year olds aren't nearly as dangerous as this." She smiled at the worried faces around her. They were all sitting around the table in the conference room, silent, probably stunned by what had happened. "I'm fine, thanks to David."

"So they drove in a car and shot at you?"

"It's exactly what we told the cops," David replied resting his hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder. "We came out of the Hanging Fork and started walking towards the subway when this car screeched right past us. They fired I don't know, five or six times at us. We were the only ones on that side of the street. So it's not like someone else was the target."

Emma sighed. They knew their line of work was dangerous, but none of them had signed up for this. Ruby who was normally talkative looked like she might start weeping at any moment. "You all should go home," Killian finally said. "Go home, get some rest, I'm sure the cops will want to ask you more questions."

"Who do you think could have done this?" Ruby finally spoke. "I mean they either wanted to kill us or scare us. I think they wanted to scare us by injuring one of us."

"Either way," Mary Margaret muttered under her breath, "mission accomplished."

"It has to be the gang from _Wonderland_," Emma sighed. And then everything came crashing down on her. "I blew our cover, our work, everything. Justin Brown pulled me in the back alley to execute me and he would have if he had not been so damn chatty."

She had been reckless and put in jeopardy three months of Ruby's work. "I think they were taking a shot at you, Ruby. They don't know Mary Margaret and David was tailing someone else when the whole thing in the alley went down. By the time he came back, they had already carted that animal away," Killian explained.

Emma had gone after one of their guys today, so he had a good look at her when he sat in the back of her yellow bug. And even if the two events were unrelated, he was a bouncer at the club and Emma was waitress suddenly turned bails bond person. "Your life is in danger too."

"Then so is yours!" she replied hotly. "You shot him!"

This is not what she had expected when she had woken up this morning. She had a dreamless night, the first one in a very long time where she had not been plagued by nightmares of her baby vanishing in front of her the moment she got too close to see its face or hold it.

This morning had been different. She had woken up with a smile on her face, feeling good and well rested.

She had rolled over and right into Killian. She had kissed him, feeling amorous and just happy to be there next to him. She had awoken him with light kisses and feather touches before she had straddled him, enticing him well placed stroke, felt him harden beneath her, his hands gripping firmly at her hips as he pushed himself inside of her and began moving at the pace she had set for them, rocking her lower body onto his until she collapsed on top of him breathless and sated, leaving him in their bed, much to his dismay, to catch his breath.

She had showered, dried her hair, gotten dressed, had a quick breakfast, kissed him with deliberate slowness on the lips, making unspoken promises to him before leaving the penthouse and getting in her car on her way to a stakeout, finding herself chasing a guy she had been after for a little more than a week now shortly thereafter.

She had chased after him into the sewers, something she never thought she would ever do.

Soon after, she had found out she might be mother to a girl instead of a boy and confirmed what she knew all along, that the man next to her was the father, even if it had been confirmed on gut instinct. It was her affirmation and she would take it as such because she loved him and they were really in this together, though it had never been any other way from the moment he had found out her secret.

And now, she was sitting with people she cared about who had likely had the scare of their lives.

The day had started with so much promise. How it had turned into this nightmare she had yet to wake from, she did not know.

"Maybe you should ask for police protection," Killian spoke, breaking the heavy silence. "Ruby, I know Victor is working double-shifts, so maybe you should come stay with Emma and me for a little while. You can have my old room."

"Did you change the sheets?"

He shook his head and made a face at her. "I'm glad to see you retained your sense of humor. You can also go to your own place if you have complaints about my bed or the sheets. I will have you know that it's a very high thread count."

"I'll go with you," she replied quickly. "I'm not scared or anything, I mean all of this is an occupational hazard anyway. I don't want to go to my place, it's too quiet."

"You're welcome to stay however long you want," Emma told her squeezing her hand in hers.

"Mary Margaret, David," Killian looked at them. "I can put you up at one of the hotels in the city if you want."

"No, we'll be fine, Mary Margaret is going to stay with me," David replied and Mary Margaret leaned into him. Emma raised an eyebrow at them. The cat was finally out of the bag with those two it seemed.

"Call if there's anything," Killian asked of them and they both nodded. "Ruby, you have a key to the penthouse, why don't you just head on there with the car service. We'll be home as soon as we can."

She merely nodded before picking up her purse and jacket and heading out.

"Is she okay?" Emma asked.

"You know Ruby, speeding cars, screeching tires, I think she's more traumatized because she remembers that's how her parents died then by being shot at," Mary Margaret replied.

They sat there for nearly an hour without a word being spoken between them. The night was beginning to fall on the city. Emma wondered for a moment if they were being followed and glanced over at Killian who seemed deep in his own thoughts. "Well there's nothing for us to do right now, so why don't we just call it a day and reconvene tomorrow?" he finally spoke as he stood from his place. Everyone else did the same. He went to the safe and pulled his handgun out and handed Emma hers. "David, I trust you have yours?" he asked him when he saw the third lock box empty.

"I have it."

"We should consider getting Ruby a carrier's permit," Killian said more to himself. He would have to discuss this with her. She was an excellent shot but refused to carry. He wondered if she might have changed her mind after what happened earlier.

"You!" they heard a voice howling from the doorway. "Where is she?"

"What are you doing here?" Killian asked Mrs. Black who had just stormed in.

"I know you're hiding her, where is she?"

"Where is who?" Emma looked between Killian and the woman who was glaring at him. "Who are you?"

"This, love, is Mrs. Black, Cordelia's guardian," Killian replied. "Don't tell me you lost her," he sneered at her as he stared her down.

"I asked you a question!" she retorted.

"I don't know where she is. I haven't spoken to her since that scene you caused at the park. You took her phone from her, you grounded her. I haven't seen her."

Emma blanched. "What do you mean you don't know where she is? I don't understand, was she not in school?"

"She left before last period started."

"What about Sarah? Have you spoken to her?"

"I could not reach her or that fickle mother of hers," Mrs. Black replied with exasperation. "I don't believe for a moment that you're not hiding her somewhere."

"Does she have a history of running away?" Mary Margaret asked. Emma looked slightly panicked and Killian looked as murderous as that woman who was standing there in the middle of their work place.

"No, she's never run away," Mrs. Black scoffed, seemingly insulted by the implication. "She has a good home."

Killian laughed mockingly. "There's a first time for everything. As for that place you call a home," he advanced on her and grabbed her arm unceremoniously. "This is your fault, all of it. You know the truth about who we are to her," he accused her, "and you have been trying to keep her away because of this scheme you have cooked up with my father. Prepare yourself for a jail cell, Madam. I will make sure you go away for a very long time. Kidnapping is a federal charge."

"I most certainly did _not_ kidnap her!"

"My father lied to my wife, the doctor lied to my wife about this fake adoption, so from where I'm standing, that makes you an accessory to kidnapping. Where is my daughter?" he asked. "What have you done with her? You are off your rocker if you think for an instant we were ever going to let you keep her? You are vile!"

Mrs. Black felt a chill run down her spine. So he had put two and two together after all. The elder Jones would be none too pleased with that.

She would lose the house, the money, the perks she had been afforded and for what? The man stood inches from her face, he was so close she could feel his warm and damp breath on her. It made her skin crawl. "And you are a spoiled brat. Now, let go of my arm or I will have you arrested for assault and battery," she yelled at him.

"Did you call the cops about Cordelia? She has been gone for several hours now," Emma asked her standing between Killian and her, trying to keep her anger under lid but failing.

"No, I have not called the cops because you're hiding her somewhere," she accused them. "Return her!"

"There is no one here but the four of us," David finally spoke deciding that he had to intervene before the situation escalated further between Killian and this woman. "She went missing…"

"She did not go missing," Mrs. Black cut him. "She skipped her classes. It's not the first time she does such a thing and she has been warned not to do it again."

"Leave!" Killian looked at Mrs. Black with contempt. "Fuck off from my office or I will have you escorted out by security building and then have you thrown in jail for trespassing."

"And your father will get me out within the first two minutes of me being there. In fact, I am certain I will not set foot anywhere near a jail cell," she taunted him. "And he will make sure you never see her again, precious little Cordelia, so sweet, loved by everyone who knows her, so talented, has such big dreams of travelling the world, becoming a musician, helping others, adopting children and puppies and kittens and you will get to see none of it. Gentle and kind Cordelia, forever an orphan, believes what she was told, that mommy and daddy are six feet _under"_ she said snidely, "missing them, wanting them, thinking she was wanted, crying herself to sleep almost every night while rubbing that silly compass you passed on to her through that doctor," she looked at Emma with hatred, "when it could not be further from the truth." She licked her lips with satisfaction and leered at them relishing the stunned and broken looks on their faces from her taunts. "What will she think of mommy when she finds out she birthed her in prison and then dumped her like yesterday's trash because she did not want her nor care for her when she has the perfect example in front of her of her little friend Sarah who was born much under the same circumstances but was kept by her mother and is loved by her mother? And what will she think of daddy when she finds out what a disgusting playboy he is. Driving while drunk, gossip fodder for trash magazines, sleeping around with brainless socialites, strip clubs, a sex tape? She may love you now as Killian Jones and Emma Swan, and she may want a mother and a father, but she will hate you for leaving her behind, giving her up, discarding her like a pair of shoes because walking in them hurt your delicate feet too much."

"You vile and disgusting bitch!" Emma bristled and surged forward, her arms outstretched, trying to reach for the other woman's neck. "I will kill you for this!" A strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her away. "Let go of me! I am going to re-arrange her face." She was a mixed bag of emotions, anger, fury, pain, sadness, regret and guilt among others all built, swelled and bubbled inside of her. It was an odd feeling, these emotions drowning her all at once and she would not be satisfied until she clawed this woman's eyes out. "What do you know about being a mother?"

The woman scuffed. "What do I know? More than you'll ever know, sweetheart. I may not love her, but I was there when she skinned her knee and I was there to take care of her whenever she was sick and I was there when she smiled and laughed for the first time, took her first steps, when she went to school for the first time, when she had nightmares. The question should perhaps be directed at you and you," she pointed at both Emma and Killian accusingly. "I think I'm more of a parent than you'll ever be!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I? I may look the idiot, Mrs. Jones and I may play the part very well, but I know _everything_. I know how you were left on the side of the road mere hours after you were born. An unwanted child, who did not want her own, did not want to write the wrongs that were done to her and was more than okay perpetuating the pain and hurt of abandonment, her mommy and daddy issues, foisting it all on her poor, sweet, defenseless infant."

"I have had about a bucket full of you!" Killian said between clenched teeth, his arm firmly around Emma's waist whose body was tense against his and became even more rigid the more Mrs. Black spoke. "Let's go, Swan. Let's see if we can find our child. Thank you for that confirmation by the way. We don't have to wait for that pesky DNA test now. I'm sure my father will praise you for letting that particular cat out of the bag." He smirked at her with insolence. "David, we might need your assistance in trying to find Cordelia. It's dark out and it's getting late."

"Whatever you need," David replied.

"I will go with you and maybe we should call Ruby and let her know what's going," Mary Margaret told him.

"Thank you, both of you. I know that you would rather be home after what happened earlier."

"Don't even think about it," Mary Margaret replied. "You guys are family and that makes her family too."

"I'll text you as soon as we're out of here," Killian pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

He grabbed Emma's hand in his and dragged her out. "Where are we going?" she asked him once they were out of earshot and in the elevator. She still felt stunned by everything that had just gone down.

"I want David to go see if Cordelia has made it back to her home before we report her missing. We both know the cops won't make a move since it has not been 48 hours yet," he texted the David the address quickly with some instructions. "If she's there, I want him to bring her to the penthouse. She knows him, she'll go with him. You and I are going to pay my father a visit."

"I should have gone to her earlier," she whispered.

"I know," he replied. It was too late for regrets now. "I just hope she's somewhere safe."

"Me too," she told him. "I'm not sure that she is though."

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She drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time she forced herself awake, she pulled the skirt of her school uniform as far down below her knees as she could. She could feel her hair sticking to her forehead and clinging to her damp skin. She had no idea where she was though she could hear drops of water hitting the ground somewhere. She was cold and the floor beneath her body was hard and frozen. It made her shiver. She thought her teeth might have shattered because of that.

This was some kind of a nightmare and she would wake up soon like she always did whenever she had bad dreams. Her hand moved, reaching for her compass for reassurance, but her fingers met more rough and frozen floor. Her mind went blank and she blissfully drifted into unconsciousness again.

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The drive had been quiet. He was speeding and swerving around cars, nearly causing an accident in the process. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I don't think I'll ever be okay again," she replied. The things she found out, the things she had been told. "All those things she said, all those accusations, she's going to hate us. I gave her up. I left her on her own. The things I swore to myself I would never do, Killian, I did all of them."

"You did the best you could under the circumstances. We will find her and we will explain everything to her. She is brilliant, Swan, she might get angry, but with time, she will understand. That woman just wanted to fill our minds with doubt and she knew exactly where to hit us with her words."

"How do you feel?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't think I have ever been this angry in my whole life." And his anger had not abated in the least since they had left in the office.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted. "I'm really scared that she ran and we won't be able to find her."

"Me too," she replied. "I'm scared something bad will happen to her. She's barely twelve and she might be all alone and the city can be dangerous for someone like her. She wasn't raised to fend for herself like I was. She can be anywhere by now, I mean she's had a six hour head start now."

He didn't even want to think about that. Manhattan was big enough already and they had no way of tracking her since she did not have her phone on her because it had been confiscated. "I thought you had lost your compass," he said to her softly.

She shook her head. "No, I believed that silly notion that we might be able to find my…our baby with that because you said you would find me with it, remember?" she looked at him and he nodded. "So I had Dr. Jenkins take it out of my things and he promised me he would pass it on. Maybe he did it because he felt guilty for what he had done for your dad. I'm surprised that woman even gave it to her. Cordelia, she kept it all those years. That's her only connection to us. And now we actually know who she is but it seems like we lost her all over again."

"We're here," he pulled over and tugged her over to him, holding her as close as he could. He kissed her head and they both let go and got out of the car. He ran to the Brownstone, Emma hot on his trail. He banged on the door loudly and repeatedly.

"Killian? Emma?" Darlene looked at them confused when she finally opened. "Is everything okay?" she asked and Killian pushed past her.

"Where is he?" he asked her without preamble.

"His office. What's going on?"

"Wonderful!" he walked with determination towards the room and opened the door, pushing it violently against the wall. "Where is she?"

"I should have known you were the one causing that racket," his father said looking up from his book.

"Where is she?"

"Where is who," his father narrowed his eyes at him.

"Really? Are you going to play that game with me, with us, right now?" he pulled his handgun out. "You will tell me where she is and I don't spill your brain all over your Persian rug."

He pulled the safety off the gun and aimed. He had always been an excellent marksman. His instructor at the naval academy had said so himself.


End file.
